The Disconcerting Case Of Dwellers Hollow(Pt 2 Never Stop Choosing Me)
by Valenka
Summary: Petyr's dumpsite has been discovered & now he's fending off a Detective while trying to keep his family and his company running, which is made almost impossible by Lysa Arryn & her unwavering belief that they'll sail off into the sunset together. Petyr was staying with his family, he was going to end Heyerdahl, take Lysa's company & make sure no one could ever link him to any of it
1. The Hunter And The Hunted

**This is part two of Wolves And Mockingbirds, it won't make any sense if you've not read part one (Broken Chains) so please read that first and enjoy! :-)**

 **XXXX**

He ran, quick and desperate he charged through the darkness of the deep forest, leaves crackling under foot while twigs snapped, a ridiculous chorus sung by nature that only existed to scare and torment; so inscrutable. He ran. The June evening air bit at his cold pale skin, as though Jack Frost had a personal grievance with him, some nips almost as sharp as a blade gliding over his cheekbones, slashing them. The sandy-haired man continued to run, couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, the words played like a mantra in his head slowly tuning into a prayer or an oath, he didn't know and didn't particularly care, or maybe it was more that he didn't have the metal focus to care. Police behind him and escape before him, body panting and panicked, heart drumming in his chest. An owl hooted and green eyes darted up to it though they never actually saw the creature, too dark were the depths of the forest, just another part of nature's chorus.

He knew that if he didn't escape them soon he'd be caught, ripped away from freedom like a nightmare, his energy had dwindled after digging the grave, palms aching from the harsh wood grating against them even through his gloves. He couldn't go to jail after everything, what sort of a story ending would that be? Normally he was such a calm and collected man, so much so it bordered on ataraxy, but he'd grown too complacent and cocky until consequences had come knocking, their thuds on the proverbial door still echoed through his mind. He must have been spotted behind the seedy bar as he drug the cooling body away to his car, it was the only moment anyone could have witnessed him. It had been sloppy and beyond stupid. He ran, running was his only option in that moment, feet pounding against the wet soil and rotting leaves. The police followed, heavy stomps and flashlights that flickered a little too close for comfort and looked like a bad horror movie scene. He ran. They'd have found the car by now – of course they had, he'd been in it when they tailed him – but the middle-aged and sandy-haired man didn't have to worry about that, he'd worn thick leather gloves and the car had been stolen that morning; they'd get no evidence from it; a void of nothingness. At least they'd get no information unless they managed to catch him, which was _not_ an option, never an option.

A stream cut through the forest not far from Dwellers Hollow, a thin little thing that was rather pathetic in the grand scheme of things, muddy and half buried under dead brown leaves and smoothed pebbles. He could lose the police and any snarling dogs that came later to track him. He ran. He ran and he kept running for his life, his freedom, his heart thudded in his chest beating in time with harsh pants that turned to mist before his face. There would never be any silver bracelets on his wrists. Water sloshed loudly as his feet stomped through the forlorn stream, flashlights continued to haunt him, their supernatural luminous tormenting him as he charged before clawing up a muddy mound that called itself a hill to escape into the night. Freedom!

~X~

When dawn finally graced the world with it's presence the rain decided to as well and not too soon later a grey sedan pulled up by the edge of the woods looking very out of place, Detective Inspector Oren Heyerdahl and his Detective Sergeant emerged from it along with the best Medical Examiner King's Landing had to offer; Jefferson Von Voltaire. They'd been put onto the Dwellers Hollow case a few hours ago calling all three out of their warm and peaceful beds, they'd just shook off the groggy grip of sleep and downed at least three cups of dark coffee each; black as night and sweet as sin.

Jefferson had almost instantly noticed four other fresh graves with bodies – all young women – buried only five to six feet down almost as though the murderer hasn't cared enough to dig deeper, a few moments later he noticed several patches of darker grass and felt a chill run down his spine almost like a snake slithering down a tree; there were more bodies, a lot more.

Heavy rain tumbled down in the style of a waterfall, angry and resentful with an almost waxy finish, the sort of rain that seemed wetter then wet and dripped off people's noses. Despite being day the sharp dark clouds kept Dwellers Hollow in a sort of constant twilight that could have easily become depressing had the Detectives, Medical team and CSIs not been too focused on the job at hand, water bounced off the white and blue pop up crime scene canopy almost deafeningly, a wrathful drumming. Murder wasn't unusual in King's Landing by any means, narcissists and bestial morons were everywhere, but the sight before them was certainly an anomaly; unique.

Thirty-five minutes later – when the air had grown almost icy – Doctor Von Voltaire had the ground penetrating radar he'd asked for which only revealed the horror of where they stood, Dwellers Hollow wasn't just a dump site, it was a graveyard, necropolis of forgotten souls. That chill Jefferson had felt before intensified. Radar had revealed at least forty more bodies each buried seven to eight feet down and all set out in neat rows; whoever had done this was organised and precise.

"Heyerdahl!" Doctor Von Voltaire called out from his place at the small screen, his rich voice echoing around the tiny Gothic-like glade. "You're going to want to see this."

In seconds DI Heyerdahl and Sergeant Larroquette were by his side almost as though they'd simply materialized, two sets of unique eyes peered at the screen before glancing up to the mass of damp yellow flags that littered the clearing; each one a life that had been taken.

"Shit!" Growled the Detective Inspector, shoulders tense and square.

"We've got ourselves a serial killer." Said Sebastian.

"Yeah, a really neat one. They're all set out in rows and at the same depth. Whoever your boys chased last night didn't kill these people, these fresher graves aren't as deep or in rows. That poor bastard stumbled on someone else's dumpsite."

"Which means there are two bastards out there." Oren continued to growl, it seemed to be a pre-requisite of being him. He glared at the Medical Examiner. "Voltaire, get 'em dug up and give me details so I can find these fuckers!"

It was rather glaringly obvious that Oren Heyerdahl wasn't a nice man – Detective Sparrow was probably the only person that liked him, so what did that say about the man? - he stood tall as an oak at six-foot-six with unnecessarily broad shoulders that left him built like a brick wall; a fact he liked to remind everyone about. Egotistical bastard. His mocha skin had aged poorly over his fifty-four years of life but he didn't seem to care, or maybe he'd just not noticed. Oren's hair had long since greyed and had always been cropped close to his head, a shame really since it could have been rather luxurious and full had it been longer. Ebony eyes enclosed by a thick black ring that had been hidden away within a constant frown of sharp lines and bushy eyebrows, yet another shame, those ebony eyes were the only part of him that could have been deemed handsome; beautiful even. A too large nose called his face home with one nostril smaller than the other, there was also a scar that ran over his left eyebrow slashing it and down his cheek somewhat, over many years it had faded but still the raised and discolored line remained over his cheek; no one dared ask him where it came from but as with all workplaces there were rumours, some dark while others were almost comical.

DI Heyerdahl's suits were expensive but ill-fitting from years of improper care and his ties only ever tightened up against his shirt collar when in court. The DI was just one of those people that others took an instant dislike to, an automatic response caused by his violent temper, superiority and his homophobic attitude. The homophobia was why he'd hated Sebastian and Jefferson at the start – still did in all honesty – in his mind couples shouldn't have been on cases together and certainly not gay couples, Oren thought they made the force look weak. King's Landing didn't particularly care that one of the force's Detective Sergeants was dating the head ME, Oren Heyerdahl however believed he wrote the law for everyone; the hubristic, imperious and supercilious bastard that he was . At first he'd tried to get Sergeant Larroquette moved to a different division – Vice had been his preferred option – and out of major crimes but after only a few weeks he'd been forced to give up and keep him, Sebastian was just too damn good at his job to get rid of.

Sebastian Larroquette however, was the total opposite to his boss, not only was the man accepting and highly intelligent but he was also very thoughtful and brave, though quite stoic upon first glance. Like Heyerdahl he was rather tall – though about an inch or so shorter than the ebony eyed DI – as well as far thinner, porcelain skin wrapped tightly around his toned muscular body and square shoulders; slender but strong. Despite having just turned forty-six the DS certainly didn't look it, in fact he appeared ten years younger, more maybe, he'd always been blessed with good skin and youth almost as though it were a consolation prize for his horrid upbringing. Larroquette's eyes were a grey-blue with a hint of red making them look like a drop of blood in a calm pond; they were Jefferson's favourite thing about his lover. His hair hung in jet black locks around his face similar to that of an Animé character, smooth to the touch and never out of place even after his morning jog; a trait the Medical Examiner envied. His left ear had been pierced as a teen but he'd long since stopped wearing the small silver earring, much to his boss' pleasure. His features were sharp and made him utterly beautiful, as though carved by the Gods – Sebastian believed his forehead to be too big though in reality it was just as perfectly proportioned as the rest of his face – the sort of man that could make any woman swoon without even trying, that didn't matter though because Jefferson was the only one Sebastian had eyes for, ever would. Long fingers lay at the end of his large hands coated in fine black hairs that vanished into his sleeves, slender fingers that often found themselves twisting pens around his ambidextrous hands, sometimes absent-mindedly, sometimes not. Larroquette had never been one for suit jackets – he found them restricting and cage-like – however, every one he owned was well cared for and fit perfectly, some were ridiculously flamboyant in patterns that few men could have pulled off. He may have hated suit jackets but there was no denying he adored waistcoats, he was never without one, each one beloved and cared for. Sebastian spoke with an accent far more subtle that his boss' thick northern one, it had been dulled after so many years in King's Landing but at the end of sentences it emerged and showed he'd clearly originated from the windy shit hole known as The Fingers. Sebastian often wore sibley reading glasses made of a silver-grey metal which only added to his beauty, they added a secondary layer of mystery to him but in reality Sebastian used them as a mask. Sebastian Tomoe Larroquette was a true Adonis, if he and Oren Heyerdahl stood side by side one looked angelic while the other appeared demonic; however just because Sebastian _looked_ angelic didn't mean he truly was. So many idiots had ended up dead because they had gone ahead and judged the book by its cover, and most of those presumptuous simpletons had deserved it.

The last of their little trio was Doctor Jefferson Von Voltaire – commonly known simply as Voltaire – he wasn't only the best Medical Examiner in King's Landing but Sebastian's long time boyfriend, which gave him the perk of being one of only two people in all of creation allowed to call him Seb without getting punched in the throat, sometimes Sebby if Jefferson felt particularly brave.

Doctor Von Voltaire could only be described as kooky, he may have been the M.E but his personality was far from macabre or at least most of the time yet some of his jokes could be pretty morbid. N ormally he filled the role of happy-go-lucky, a man who constantly wore a sexy smile, a sparkle in his eyes and a skip in his step . He wasn't quite as muscular as Sebastian but his milky skin was just as toned and held far more strength than it seemed, he'd always been chubby in the face though which just provided him an innocent cuteness. Voltaire's hair had been styled in a messy quiff of dark auburn almost chestnut locks that made his eyes really pop, they were cerulean – the sort of eyes one could easily get lost in – with a bold black ring around the edge of his iris and a scattering of gold which just made them seem even deeper, almost like something out of a fairytale. There was a dinted scar on the right side of his upper lip from a fight years ago but it was far less noticeable that the one Oren wore; more a faded memory than anything else . He spoke with a posh accent, the sort that only came out of the Reach, he'd grown up on ly a stones throw from Highgarden; an investment banking firm that had made the Tyrell family practically the most wealthy in all of Westerose. Jefferson had talented fingers that always got to work quickly, his thumbs were spoon-shaped and perfectly manicured despite his occupation; he wasn't the sort of man to let what he wanted slip from his grasp . Normally Jefferson was seen in his uniform, white scrubs and thick boots as well as his long lab coat when in his office, but in reality Jefferson was more of the Victorian Gothic persuasion; the police had long ago gotten used to him showing up in his long Gothic burgundy colored frock coat rather than his assigned black polyester jacket with M.E written neatly across the back in large yellow letters. N o one really questioned it his oddness , instead they just referred to him as kooky like everyone else. Another ever present item was a simple silver bracelet on the inside of which had been engraved the words _for my love_ , it had been a birthday gift from Seb when he'd turned thirty and he'd worn it ever since; at heart Jefferson was the sentimental sort.

In summary they were three very different men, Oren was cruel and full of his own self-importance, Sebastian, stoic and quite frankly a genius surround by adolescent morons and lastly was Jefferson, their Gothic joker. A strange little team and so the three of them made it work; they didn't have much choice.

~X~

It was either excruciatingly late or really early when the beautiful Tristan Baelish, a sweet four year old with a dark mop known as hair padded into the yacht bedroom of his parents; the heavy rain had probably woken him. C arefully he tried to clamber up onto the bed, hands fisting at the green duvet, but all he succeeded in doing was pulling the covers off his Father and waking the elder man. Grey- green eyes fluttered open and glanced down to the small boy stood by his bed, he didn't say a word just picked up the child and pulled him up onto the bed with ease before settling Tristan between himself and a still sleeping Sansa. It took the four-year old only a few seconds to slip back off into slumber and dreams of dragons after Sansa instinctively tucked her arm around him pulling their son closer to her chest. It was the perfect image of family; Petyr had Sansa, two beautiful children, Tristan and Poppy, a protective dog and the most powerful company in all of Westeros. Being CEO of Lion and Stag Enterprises pretty much made him a King in the modern world, especially after he'd brought Iron Isle Shipping into the fold. Theon had been his in for their company but Yara Greyjoy was the one with the business mind, she would make that company into something to be proud of now that their Father and Uncle were gone. It also gave him another angle at Daenerys Targaryen's thriving company other than her right hand man Tyrion Lannister who'd gone rather silent since he'd crossed the Narrow Sea after Tywin's death.

The Mockingbird club continued to thrive rather substantial ly as Petyr always knew it would, rich people would always want pretty young things to fuck without questions. However, none of that was important as he lay there with Sansa and the eldest of his children cuddled to his side aboard their yacht, the gentle swaying and sound of rain splattering against the hull soothing them back of to sleep.

Sansa's strength had grown to new heights over the last three years – almost four – and he'd even taught her about what being a Vice President meant, his girl was a quick study and had gotten the hang o f t hings, her clever mind stored everything he taught her away for later . Often Petyr would have to help her but she'd gathered the bravery and knowledge to contribute to meetings on more than one occasion showing she was far more than her age suggested or Petyr's trophy wife . There were times though where her courage failed her and Petyr would have to help; always her hero to the rescue.

Still, none of it mattered, he was at peace sleeping beside his wife, that was when he forgot who he was and what he'd done, everything would just stop and he'd descend into a fairytale like sleep; until a disconcerting chill ran up his spine. At first he'd thought it was the sway of his luxury yacht on the water but he couldn't fool himself into believing it was that for more than a second.

This wasn't going to be good... he could tell.


	2. The Busy Mind Of Man

Dawn eventually arrived as it did every morning without fail, darkness and thick rain had given way to a shining sun and white sand heated by golden rays, it would still be raining miles away in King's Landing but out on the sea it was quite another story. Happily birds sang as they flew through the sky or perched in the trees of the nearby uninhabited island no larger two football fields. Calm waves rocked Baelish's large yacht in almost rhythmic pattens that sometimes chimed into music.

Everything went normally, Petyr woke first as always and flipped on the coffee machine before he started breakfast for Sansa and the kids – today was pancakes, strawberry for Sansa and Tristan, chocolate for Poppy and himself – before he headed back to his cabin – kissing Sansa as he went – to get dressed while Sansa took over breakfast. They made quite the little team; efficient and worked around each other exquisitely. Normally he'd have dressed for the day in his favourite jet black suit with dark plum shirt and Italian leather shoes, however, with the day promising to warm up he donned a simple pair of maroon surfer shorts as well as a loose, short-sleeved white shirt, the collar remained open revealing his chest spattered lightly with dark hair.

When he went back up the narrow staircase to the kitchen he found his children sat on the blue-white couch at the table eating their pancakes while his beautiful Sansa – who still wore her short blue satin nightdress – poured her husband a cup of coffee; Petyr always needed coffee first thing in the morning. Petyr went to the redhead and slipped his long arms around her thin waist and pulled her close so her back was to his chest.

"Morning, Sweetling." He said before pressing a kiss to her long neck, it had healed greatly in the nearly four years since he'd first found Sansa but it would never be gone. "Love you."

"I love you too, Petyr."

She offered him his coffee cup which Petyr took gratefully before raising it to his soft lips and took a sip.

"Go and get dressed, Baby girl." He told Sansa before pressing another kiss to her porcelain neck. "I'll take care of Tristan and Poppy."

Sansa hummed a little and then padded off happily to dress for the day, the dark-haired man with green-grey eyes glanced over to see his son and daughter eating happily before flicking on the small television that called the corner of his kitchen counter home, seemed there was a new news report; Petyr sipped his hot coffee.

 _In the early hours of this morning Police located a mass graveyard deep in the forest that surrounds King's Landing, specifically an ancient area of the forest that is said to be haunted due to the constant fog and just how isolated it is. The area is named Dwellers Hollow-_

Petyr spat out his coffee. "Holy shit!"

 _The KLPD are yet to give a statement regarding the gruesome case, however, Detective Inspector Oren Heyerdah l of the Major Crimes Division has been assigned. It's believed that at least forty-five bodies have been discovered so far..._

Suddenly that cold shiver he'd felt the night before became clear, Petyr didn't listen to anymore of the woman on the news, just wiped away the coffee from his lips and chin. Sansa came charging into the room, she wore a yellow halter-neck dress with a sweetheart neckline, lined in black and came down to her mid-thigh, as usual she wore no shoes, it was the panic in her eyes Petyr noticed first though.

"What's wrong?" She asked quickly before looking at the television, there was an almost non-existent pause before she spoke again without taking her eyes from the reporter. "Tristan, baby, can you take your sister and Lady downstairs to play for me please?"

"Yes, Mommy."

Said the little boy before he grabbed Copper the wolf – who over the years had become Tristan's rather than Sansa's – and held the hand of his little sister as they went down the narrow staircase with Lady padding behind them; she was bigger than both of them but like a teddy bear in reality. As soon as their son and Poppy were out of sight Sansa raced to her husband's side and cuddled into his chest knowing her presence would comfort him, her head rested on his shoulder.

"... How bad is it?"

"Very." For a time it appeared as though that one word was all he'd say, so much so that Sansa actually jumped when he finally spoke again. "That is my dumpsite, there are a lot of people buried there including Cersei."

"Can they trace it to you? To us?"

"No. Cersei is the only one of them I actually killed, the others I cleaned from all over King's Landing. I was thorough – always am – there's no evidence of me or who murdered them." He took a breath. "Still, this isn't good. Heyerdahl is like a dog with a bone, he'll just keep coming like an angry bull. I need to go over each body that's in Dwellers Hollow, make a hundred percent sure that there's nothing that can connect me." Petyr set the coffee cup down on the counter but his wife didn't release him.

"You moved bodies for the Lannisters and the Baratheons right? They are all gone now save for Tyrion, Jaime, Tommen and Myrcella and they're no threat, so you don't need to worry about any guilty consciences."

"There were a lot more people than just those two families, Sweetling. Like I said, I need to think about this."

"What about Tristan? We came out on the yacht because it was what he wanted to do for his birthday, he's four. And you promised to help Poppy with her swimming today."

All of that was true, Tristan hadn't wanted a large party or anything like that – much like his father he detested pretending to care about the morons around him – and instead just wanted a nice weekend with his little sister, Mother and constantly working Father; Poppy just wanted to go swimming. Petyr smiled thinking about his young daughter splashing about with glee.

"Mmm I was, and you were going to wear that new swimsuit I got you." The older man leaned in and kissed his wife in a soft but loving brush of lips.

"I said I _might_ wear it. You know I don't like Tris and Poppy seeing my scars."

"Maybe after they've gone to bed then? For me?" He asked in a deep voice as he pulled Sansa closer to his warm chest.

"How could I ever say no to you?" She smiled.

"Good." He took a breath. "Sweetling it would be suspicious if we suddenly went back, we've only been out here two days, especially before it's been announced Cersei is down there. Identifying Cersei is going to take a while and I won't let my son's birthday weekend be ruined. Tristan and Poppy Baelish want for nothing! Keep them detracted for a while and I'll be out later. Oh and make sure Lady has her life jacket."

"Alright. Are you okay?"

He smiled, one of those real smiles that only Sansa and his children ever got to see, only a few years ago Sansa would have been dominated by worry over what the dump site having been found meant; no more though. Petyr was a genius and had proven that he would never let any harm come to his family. Long ago he's said that the Lannisters sort revenge for their families while Petyr would kill anyone before they got the chance to harm his own; Sansa believed him.

Sansa knew that Tris and Poppy would be upset their Daddy spent most of the day in his office but between herself, Lady and the sun the kids would be distracted long enough. With another kiss Sansa left the room and went to get the children dressed. Petyr stood there for a while as the reporter continued to talk, problems were going to come, of that Baelish had no doubt, he had his connections and cunning personality though; he could over come this.

~X~

Hours went by with Petyr locked up in his office while his wife and children played out on the deck in the sun with Lady. Petyr hadn't purchased a Hatteras 80 Motor Yacht after all for nothing after all, Sansa had said if he spent five million on a tri deck yacht she'd slap him so after some searching he'd chosen the Hatteras, he still had the smaller boat – _Chaos –_ but there had been so many dead bodies on it that Sansa wasn't comfortable having the kids around it. The yacht office was reasonably sized and lined with cherry wood panels and a cream carpet, there were no windows since his office was in the middle of the yacht – which he'd named _Lily_ after his mother – so the room was lit with soft wall lights. A large desk of a similar cherry wood to the walls was pushed up against the left side of the room while a green-grey couch had been pressed against the other, a much more basic office than at home, Lion and Stag or his club but it saw little use so that didn't really matter.

In the time he'd been there Petyr had accumulated a list of all he'd cleaned, he'd never listed them before, not on paper at least, it had always remained in his head where no one could use it against him. He'd left those that had been fed to the sharks off his little list. There were so many unnamed prostituted listed forcing him to separate them via description in his neat handwriting. Male, thirties, Hawaiian shirt. Female, teens, blue sued stilettos and white dress. One of the most distressing bodies he'd buried was a child who'd been raped and strangled by one of the lesser known Lannisters almost fifteen years ago, she'd only been a year or so older than Tristan and had sparked a year-long search. The sight had disturbed him even back then but now? If someone went near Poppy he'd flay them. No one touches his children! No one! Petyr had an excellent memory – had to – and a very high IQ that easily tabled him genius, to look at him most would say smart but not genius level. People underestimated him until it was too late and that was just how Baelish liked it. He remember every body he'd ever cleaned and who for, all that information was locked up in his cunning mind.

 _Navy Alluni. He'd been thirty-one when he died, been murdered. Navy was a bartender at The Bear, a club run by Jorah Mormont, and had one day managed to piss off Joffrey – probably the fact the blonde bastard had been to young to be in a club – which had lead to Petyr cleaning up his kicked in head from the ally behind the bar at two in the morning. Baelish had been overjoyed when he'd discovered that the cameras had been broken for almost a week, it had saved him a job. That had been five and a half years ago._

 _Tammin Telford was Tywin's mistress, or at least she had been until the stupid twenty-seven year old had threatened to report his illegal activities to the media unless he paid her off. Tywin had slit her throat about forty seconds after she'd confronted him and to be honest Petyr thought Tammin deserved death for her stupidity. Ten years had gone by since Baelish had put her in the ground._

 _Safiya Lesmono had made a similar mistake as Tywin's mistress a few years before Tammin Telford and had simply been shot by one of Tywin's men. A shame really because Petyr had thought her beautiful in a plane sort of way, she'd been younger than Tammin too, only seventeen._

 _Mangus Isley had lost a drunk game of Russian roulette with Robert Baratheon about seventeen years ago and his best friend Rami Cudlitz had gone a round later._

At the very bottom of Petyr's list was the man who'd started it all twenty-five years ago when Petyr was at university but that was another story. Petyr went over every single corpse in Dwellers Hollow as though it were some great puzzle to be solved, as soon as they returned to the house he'd find out exactly who was on Heyerdahl's team and which Medical Examiner had been assigned; _that many bodies, it's got to Voltaire._ That man was the best in King's Landing and if Petyr had missed anything Jefferson Von Voltaire would find it. After a few hours he came to the conclusion that he and his clients were safe – not that he cared that much for them – which meant that so were Sansa and his children. No one of any real importance was buried down there save for Cersei, seemed even in death she was causing him problems. Petyr was CEO if Lion and Stag Enterprises now and Sansa was his Vice President, his children were Baelishs and recognised as powerful by that alone, he wouldn't let one moron who'd found a good dumpsite and a woman who'd been dead for almost four years pull it all down. Petyr Amyas Baelish didn't get outmanoeuvred ! Also, Heyerdahl was a total idiot so he had little to fear from him. _Overgrown ape,_ Petyr's mind mumbled.

Petyr hadn't killed anyone since Cersei and she'd had over three years to decompose, Jaime still had missing posters up but her children didn't seem bothered any longer; Tommen and Myrcella had moved on. Jaime Lannister had actually done very well for himself in Dorne, Vaith Incorporated kept going from strength to strength and no one dared question his CSO Brienne; she'd permanently taken up the post six months or so after Jaime had taken over. The woman may have been overgrown and as fierce as a rabid bear but she was smart and had a good heart, which in all honesty meant very little to Petyr but over the years Sansa had taken a liking to Brienne.

Suddenly Sansa knocked on his office door and jolted him from his thoughts and memories, the redhead pushed open the large door as his grey-green eyes looked up. She was stunningly beautiful in her yellow dress and bare feet , it made her skin glow with innocence. Sansa hardly ever wore shoes unless leaving the house – even in winter – and her hair hung loose around her face and shoulders, oh how he loved that crimson cloak of hers. She smiled softly but Petyr was her husband and Master, he knew what that look really meant; _I'm worried about you._ He didn't speak, just pushed his chair back away from the desk and patted his leg in invitation. Instantly she settled in his lap and cuddled into her husbands chest.

"Are you alright, Master?"

Petyr chuckled softly.

"You only call me that when you're scared or want to be fucked, which is it, my little wife?"

Petyr nipped at her neck as he pulled her to straddle him. Their lips locked for a time in a heated kiss. Their tongues met in a battle for dominance that Petyr quickly won, their foreheads touched every now and again when they separated for air before letting their lips brush against each other's once more. Her scent flooded his senses, their kiss wasn't innocent more like a tease, hot, fiery, passionate and demanding.

"I love you." She told him with nothing but truth in her dazzling blue eyes. "But unfortunately it's the former."

"Shame." He muttered into her long hair. "The latter is much more fun."

She flashed him another one of those looks, the one that said _you're changing the subject,_ Sansa was well acquainted with his methods of distraction.

He sighed. "I'm fine, Sweetling. I can't think of any impending issue and it's not like I can just go and dig them all up. Cersei is the only one that could even remotely lead back to me."

"Did you use your gun?" Petyr smiled at the question asked into his chest, his girl had picked up a lot from her husband and not all of it legal.

"No, Sweetling. Her own which got broken down and scattered."

"Cameras?"

Petyr grinned and pressed another kiss to his wife's forehead. "You're getting good at this, My Love. I dealt with all of that years ago and the man I used to wipe all of that won't tell anyone because I know about his murder porn collection. If anything else arises I'll figure it out on the fly."

"You can talk your way out of anything, can't you?"

"Everything except being a horse for my three-year old daughter."

Sansa smiled, mirroring his own, Poppy loved it when he did that for her. The great Petyr Baelish brought to his knees by a toddler. Then again, Poppy was Daddy's little princess, she could get away with just about anything.

"Just promise me you'll come to bed tonight, please? I love you." Her face was decorated with love.

"I love you too, Sweetling." Petyr pulled her closer to his chest. Sansa loved the way he always smelt of mint, she'd come to associate that scent with safety.

"Can't the Lannisters just leave us alone? Except Tyrion." She added quickly.

Sansa had grown quite close to Tyrion, if anyone other than Petyr had found her Sansa hoped it would have been Tyrion. He may have been half their height but that didn't mean he deserved half their respect, he even rivalled Petyr when it came to sarcasm.

Sansa had though it was over after Cersei died, thought she and her family were free to live their lives but everything had come flooding back. Fate was a cruel mistress.

"Lannisters unfortunately have a nasty habit of coming back, just appearing out of the woodwork. Don't concern yourself, My Love."

The two sat in silence for a brief time just enjoying one another's company. It was almost a tradition that Sansa would sit on his lap in one of Petyr's offices and just let him hold her, his touch alone made her feel safe and as though she could accomplish anything, Petyr was her rock while Tris and Poppy were her purpose.

"Will you come and have something to eat?" She asked after about ten minutes later.

"I told you I'd cook."

"Petyr, it's eleven at night. Poppy and Tristan are asleep, I did knock earlier but you never answered."

Petyr paused.

"Have I been in here all day?" He could have sworn it had only been a few hours but eleven o'clock at night? He'd been lost deep in his thoughts. "I'm sorry, Sansa." He kissed his wife. "Let's just go to bed, I'll make it up to the children tomorrow. I need to turn my brain off."

Sansa grinned as she rose to her feet pulling Petyr up by his hand, she certainly knew how to get him to switch off... and he did want to see her in that new swimsuit after all.


	3. One Problem After Another

Doctor Jefferson Von Voltaire had spent most of the day on his knees; and not in a good way. He'd been performing preliminary autopsies for each new corpse that came up from the earth. Men, women, old and young, black, white; people of every race and creed. There was nothing to connect them save for the fact they were dead; Sebastian Larroquette was looking into their identities. Most had been strangled or shot but each death was different, the doctor needed to perform real post-mortems of course to get any real information with which to aid his long time boyfriend. Oren Heyerdahl may have been the DI on the case but it was DS Larroquette that did all the hard legwork; in all honesty he deserved more credit.

Forty-nine bodies had been exhumed from the graveyard by four in the afternoon and at least another twelve awaited unearthing. Each body had been buried separately with years between some of them. Jefferson had a _lot_ of work ahead of him. His forensic photographer looked ready to pass out. The eldest body Jefferson was sure had been there about twenty to twenty-five years while the most recent had only been buried around six to seven. Others were yet to be discovered though of that the doctor and Sergeant were certain. Strangely they had also found a body off to the side of the neat rows that looked as though whoever had put it there wanted it in total isolation, in Seb's opinion that would be their best chance at discovering who had committed the horrible crimes.

Oren had been barking orders all day as usual and Doctor Von Voltaire had endured just about enough of it, He'd turned the police detective out of his lab shortly after they'd arrived at the mortuary that which had dramatically increased his work rate.

He stood there before the steel tables and gurneys covered with bodies, so many of them, some had skin hanging from their old bones while other's were just skeletons. Every single one of the dead had lost their fingertip and most had their teeth pulled making identification almost impossible. The eldest bodies would no doubt remain nameless, poor souls. Someone had gone to a great deal of effort to hide who they were. Sebastian and Jefferson had quite a task ahead of themselves.

XXXX

He'd ended up locked in his office the night before thinking about his dumpsite problem so hadn't taught Poppy to swim like he'd promised, however, his daughter didn't seem to be willing to let him miss another day. After breakfast she'd launched and told him in that broken child speak of hers that she was going to put on her bathing suit and he was going to teach her to swim; even at three she was determined and unwavering. Sansa had taken Poppy and Tris off to get changed while Petyr had poured himself a second cup of coffee and looked over the morning news that continued to go on and on about the death of Jon Arryn. When he'd emerged onto the deck Tristan had already been splashing about with Sansa while Poppy petted Lady on the dock. Petyr crept up behind his daughter and pulled her into his arms, she yelped happily.

"Daddy!" Poppy beamed.

"I believe someone demanded a swimming lesson."

Suddenly he threw her into the big blue and tugged his shirt over his head before diving in after Poppy and starting her lesson just like he'd taught Sansa all those years ago.

Sansa just watched Petyr and her daughter for a while, he was a fantastic father and Poppy was certainly a daddy's girl. Tristan looked just like him even though he was adopted, Poppy's hair was exactly the same as her mother's and Catelyn's but her eyes and smile were all Petyr. If Sansa had been told four years ago that she'd be swimming in the sun with her husband and children she'd have laughed at them, but there she was happy and loved. Their family had been thrown together by death, destruction and horror but it was their family and they were happy.

The sound of Tristan and his sister laughing filled Sansa's ears and she felt a wave of peace wash over her just as the cool ocean water did. They'd be back home come the next afternoon so the redhead wanted to make the most of it, wanted to savour every single second.

Despite all the thoughts and concerns going on in the Petyr's mind he had promised his children a barbecue on the beach, so late in the afternoon he'd rowed himself, his wife, Lady and the children over to the small uninhabited island off the port side of his yacht. _And after they're asleep we can have our own time,_ he'd told Sansa before they set sail. _Mmm, Master,_ she'd purred before placing a kiss to his lips and turning to walk away. _Come on, they're rich kids who are impatient after all,_ she'd told him. Petyr had just laughed as he'd slipped Lady into her life jacket. _No, I'm rich. They won't be rich 'til I'm dead._

That had been hours ago, the light had faded, his children had eaten, fallen asleep in the beach tent and – thankfully – Lady had tired herself out leaving Petyr and Sansa cuddled on the beach wrapped in a soft blue cotton blanket. Even through the peace of their setting he could sense his wife's tension, Petyr had a plan to protect them though, a plan that had been in motion since his late teens.

"I know you're worried, My Love, but please don't be." He pulled Sansa closer. "Nothing is going to happen to us, I won't let it."

Sansa wanted to believe him, wanted to let go her worries and concerns and focus on her husbands calloused fingers on her skin but there was something lurking at the very back of her mind that wasn't going to leave her any time soon.

"I love you, Master."

"I love you too, Sweetling."

Sansa yawned, mouth going wide so much so that her jaw ached for a moment or two.

"Time you went to be me thinks." He wore one of those smiles, the ones that actually reached his eyes and were only for his family.

"I'm not tired." She protested before yawning again.

"Yes you are, baby girl."

Easily he picked her up and sat her in the boat then retreated his sleeping children – they could sleep through just about anything – and setting them down in Sansa's arms. He quickly packed up everything and took them all back to the ship.

XXXX

Petyr strode into Lion and Stag like he owned the place – well, because he did – and headed straight up to his office pausing only to greet Gwendolyn, his loyal assistant. He'd been sweet and caring father of two while out on the yacht but he was back now and the powerful Littlerfinger had returned to play.

"Morning, Sir." The woman with dyed blond hair smiled up at him. "How was Tristan's birthday? I bet he got spoilt."

Her own son, Lukas, was only four years older than Petyr's so she often took interest in Tristan and Poppy.

"Indeed he did, Alayne showered him with gifts. Is there any mail?"

Petyr didn't particularly like the chit-chat but he put up with it when it came to Gwendolyn because of how good she was at her job, she also knew everything that happened with the lower down staff and fed it straight to him.

"Lucky boy, and yes there are a few things. Miss Cratter sent over this file for you too." She handed everything over, it wasn't a particularly thick stack, in fact it was smaller than usual. "Also, Draven broke the photocopier so making copies is going to be a little slow until that's fixed, it should be done within the hour."

"I leave for three days-" He cut his quiet mutterings off.

"Oh, I almost forgot, there's also a package for you from Tyrion Lannister." She handed that over as well, it was wrapped up in brown paper and had Tyrion's neat handwriting on the front. "Also Mister Tally wanted to speak with you, I told him to come back at two o'clock."

"Thank you."

With that Petyr vanished into his office and fell down into his desk chair. After he'd had Tywin's office broken back down into three offices like it had originally been his own corner office had doubled in size, yes it would have been easier to just move into Tywin's but he wanted to keep the view of the ocean; he was a Pluviophile after all. Petyr had also made quick work of redecorating the office next to his as Sansa's own; she was the Vice President after all. Sansa didn't use her office that often but it was goof to have a show of power, not just CEO and VP but a husband and wife united and occupying half the fifty-first floor.

In the years since Petyr had taken over Lion and Stag had become even more profitable especially with the aid of Iron Isle Shipping allowing them to access even more of Westeros. People had once revered the name Lannister but now the name Baelish had taken their place.

Petyr pulled off the paper from the package and tugged open the box, inside was a smaller box wrapped in red paper and topped with a letter, Baelish quickly opened it and started to read.

 _Dear Petyr,_

 _I and Daenerys wish to speak with you regarding a new business venture at some point, I intend to contact Lion and Stag soon but that is not why I'm writing. I believe this will arrive a little late for young Tristan's birthday but I saw it and couldn't stop laughing. Mini you!_

 _Regards_

 _Tyrion Lannister_

 _PS._

 _Slap Ros' ass for me._

Petyr didn't open it, not because it was for his son but because he didn't much care as to its contents, instead Petyr just set it aside for later and set to work. An hour or so later Varys knocked and entered without waiting for a _come in._

"I see the King of the Ashes has returned." Said the bald man, Varys had taken to calling the CEO that soon after Jaime had announced he was leaving for Dorne; Petyr certainly like the 'King' part.

"Do you need something, Varys?" Petyr asked without looking up. "If so do make it quick."

The CHRO could have rolled his eyes. "Of course, _My Lord."_ He cleared his throat. "One of the assistants on the ninth floor has just submitted a sexual harassment complaint."

"Names." It wasn't a question.

"Yura Cornell and Raznor Halemont."

"And you haven't dealt with this already because? You are CHRO after all, or did I make a mistake when I kept you?" Petyr finally glanced up with his bold moss colored eyes.

"Oh I assure you, I swept into action but – as she put it – she wants _the shit scared out of him_ and apparently you are the only person capable of doing that for her with any satisfaction."

"Have him sent to my office." Petyr looked up again. "Now, if there's nothing else, get out. I can't take the glare from your head any longer."

"Of course, I feel the need to escape your facial hair as well."

With their sparing over Varys left for his own office leaving Petyr to continue his work. A few minutes later Gwendolyn brought him a cup of dark coffee, black as night and sweet as sin, which he promptly gulped down. Soon enough Gwendolyn alerted him that Raznor Halemont was outside via the intercom box and Petyr ordered him inside; Petyr then promptly tore him a new one.

"Have your desk cleared out within the hour and get the hell out of my building." His voice might have been calm but the words bit like an angry dragon, Petyr had learnt long ago that a calm man was far more terrifying than one who yelled and screamed. Petyr leaned over to the intercom. "Gwendolyn, have Clegane escort Halemont from the building."

Raznor – who was approximately thirty-three with sandy blonde hair and eyes so dark the seemed black upon first glance – shot up from his chair opposite Petyr with a look of thunder.

"You can't fire me! That bitch lied! Who are you going to believe, the chief assistant for the legal department or the girl that gets the coffee?"

"Is this some bizarre attempt at being amusing or are you actually serious?" There was a split second where neither man said anything. "Serious then. Well, considering you've just called Miss Cornell a lying bitch and suggested to me that you're somehow of more importance to me than her, of course then there's the fact she's not the first woman to accuse you of harassment, I'm going to go ahead and believe her. You're argument is so stupid that I wish it had a face for me to slap. So, get out of my office, clean your shit from your desk and enjoy looking for another job. Good day Mister Halemont."

"I'll kill your for this!" The blonde suddenly erupted but Petyr didn't even look back up from his papers.

"Don't make too much noise about it."

At that moment Clegane entered Petyr's office and dragged Raznor out, after his little outburst he'd never work again. Gwendolyn leaned against the foorframe to Petyr's office watching Clegane tug Raznor to the elevator.

"Set Sandor Clegane on him, you really wanted to terrorise him." There was almost a chuckle in her voice. "I told Yura you'd destroy him for her." Finally she turned to face Baelish who had risen from his desk and had made short work of stacking his files up. "They're in the boardroom waiting for you and Mister Creed is complaining you're late.

"Athelstan Creed always complains, he's worse than Pycelle was."

Inside the boardroom he found all his high level executives – save for Clegane – already at their seats... including his wife. She wore a black dress with queen Ann neckline and matching heels – he didn't really like it when she woe heels since they made her so much taller than him but sat there looking perfect he didn't much care – the large diamond of her wedding ring shone brightly marking her as his for all to see. She had very little make up on, she'd never been much of a fan but the pale pink lipstick worked to make her flaming hair even bolder, _Gods she's beautiful._ He just wanted to bend her over the desk and take her right there for everyone to see. Petyr could remember the bruises and dirt that had coated her when he first found her but now she looked like royalty, powerful and ready to take on the world; he was so proud of her. Petyr went straight to his Sweetling and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before taking his seat at the head of the table.

"Morning Sweetling." He greeted with a smile. Petyr knew every man in the building was jealous of him, Sansa was so beautiful and all his.

When the CSO entered and took his seat Petyr's mind snapped back to him.

"Has the horny rabbit left the burrow?"

"Yes." Said the abnormally tall man with scars down his face. "I don't think he likes me."

"You have that effect on people." Said Varys and Petyr couldn't help but give one of those smug little grins of his.

Athelstan Creed, the CTO or Chief Technology Officer, suddenly piped up in that grumbling tone of his.

"Can we get to the reason we're all here-" Before her could continue his whining Viktorya Cratter, Petyr's successor as CFO talked over him.

"As you suggested changes have been made to the communication times between ourselves and Essos, you were right, Mister Baelish, the staff are happier, working at better efficiency and the change has turned out to be profitable."

"Good." Announced Baelish. "I want a stock movement report as well, also get me the stats on Marat Shinatose, he lost three million and before I left and only made one-point-six million back."

"What about the system breach?" Asked Sansa with a voice like silk.

"Breach?" Petyr directed his raised eyebrows to Athelstan.

"The techs noticed someone trying to gain access to our data at two-fifteen this morning-"

"And don't you think I should have been told about this, oh I don't know, when it happened!"

"Apologies."

Athelstan Creed knew next to nothing about technology and had always had a sense of superiority that annoyed just about everyone around him, he needed replacing in all honesty and after this blunder he would be, his vice CTO Negate Winters; Petyr would deal with that later though.

"It looked as though they were trying to install a honeypot, however the head of my IT team averted it and booted them from the system. The police have been notified and I have a meeting scheduled with them at noon, I'll have a full report for you after that."

"No, you'll bring them to my office once they arrive I want to know everything about this."

The meeting went on for a while after that and Petyr grew steadily more bored, little of the information given to him was important after the system breech and Petyr found himself staring at his angelic Sansa. The way her stocking peeked out from her dress where he legs were crossed and the innocent but still teasing view of her cleavage just made him want her all the more. Petyr almost didn't notice when the meeting finally ended, he'd been looking at his wife but everything came flooding back when Sansa rose from her seat and straddled him; that he certainly noticed.

"Are you alright, Master?" She asked softly. Sansa had come so far he'd first found her, to the untrained eye it was almost as though it had never happened.

"Yes, Sweetling."

Problem one, Petyr's dumpsite of the last two decades had been discovered by authorities. Problem two, Jon Arryn had just died – which was about bloody time – leaving Vale Limited under the control of the crazy bitch known as Lysa, that lead to problem two subsection A; there would be a wake and Sansa still detested crowds and didn't want there children anywhere near her aunt. Problem three, someone was trying to hack into his company. Despite all that though Sansa wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body to him made it all go away.

"There's a lot of tension in your shoulders, let me help?" Petyr nodded knowing exactly where this was going.

Sansa slipped from his lap and onto her knees, his belt came undone quickly and Sansa pulled her husband free of his pants and slowly ran her delicate hands up his thighs, teasing her way toward the prize. Petyr stared down at her with a knowing grin firmly plastered upon his lips. The red headed beauty reached into his boxers and caressed his balls briefly pulling a moan from his lips before settling her hand upon his manhood. He was painfully hard and desperate for her, he ached for her every single day. A needy moan escapes his slightly parted lips as Sansa continue to massage and squeeze him tormentingly seeing if she could tempt him into dominance, maybe a woman with her past shouldn't have wanted that but Sansa did. When Petyr showed his dominant side it wasn't violent or abusive, it came from love for her, from his want to constantly be with her and protect her.

Sansa let out a little groan of greedy want as she took him in hand and stroked him, feeling his substantial girth fill her palm, thumbs lightly running over the sweet spot just below the head on the outer side of his cock, she revelled in the gasp it brought. Her cerulean eyes flashed up to watch his own eyes flutter shut, Petyr's hands snaked into her long red hair gripping it tight, he didn't force her to him just held her there, his chest rose and fell as he drew in fresh air, the only thing cooling his heated body. Petyr's tongue flicked over his top lip momentarily before his green-grey eyes managed to open again and he looked down to his sweet Sansa.

"Fuck! That's it Sansa."

She grinned at his desire for her, locking her eyes with the man she loved Sansa took Petyr deep into her wet mouth and groaned.

"Fuck, yes!" He moaned with a buck of his hips.

She alternated between long sucks and strokes of her hand punctuated by Sansa swirling her tongue around the head, she loved the noises he made, all for her, because of her. Her head bobbed as her nails dug into his thighs hungrily. Suddenly his hips bucked again, she could see how hard he was tying to resist thrusting into her mouth. He was so close and Sansa threw every ounce of passion she had into her movements, when his hips started to buck uncontrollably Sansa was forced to hold them in place until finally he came.

White erupted behind Petyr's closed eyes as his release came, her name on his lips, gasped out almost as though he were dying. Petyr didn't deserve Sansa, he knew that but he was selfish and wouldn't ever let her go. He'd have Sansa until his dying day and even the she'd still be Alayne Baelish, _his_ wife, the mother of _his_ children.


	4. The Wake

The day of Jon Arryn's wake came and Sansa flat-out refused to let her two beautiful children attend, not because it was morbid but because she wanted them as far from Lysaas possible. She didn't remember much of her childhood before Joffrey but she could remember her Aunt Lysa babysitting on one occasion, she and her siblings had spent the whole evening walking on egg shells. In all honesty Olyvar – the brothel worker – probably wasn't the best babysitter either but Sansa trusted him alone with Tristan and Poppy far more that she did Lysa in a fifty foot radius of them. Petyr hadn't put up much of a fight about it when Sansa had voiced her concerns, he'd actually agreed whole heartedly with his wife; that was how the two young children had found themselves playing with Uncle Olyvar in their living room.

Petyr lead Sansa into the large mansion that Lysa and her son, Robin, called home, her arm was looped with his and she kept close to his side, there were so many people, half of them with their eyes on her and half on Baelish thinking him a cradle-snatcher. Yes, Petyr was older than her but did that really matter? She was happy with him, safe and loved, they had two beautiful children. should age have really come between that?

A few of the attendants she'd seen before, some just in passing like Anya Waynwood, the late Jon Arryn's CLO. Others she'd had more dealings with such as Yohn Royce who was Vale Limited's CFO just like Petyr had been once upon a time for Lion and Stag.

Soon Petyr was making polite conversation as he moved around the packed room with his hand on Sansa's waist keeping her close and safe but also to remind those that gazed at her that Sansa was his and only his. He greeted the Tyrells and for a moment she'd thought Margaery had noticed the scaring on her neck, Sansa only realised she'd been holding her breath when the beautiful woman looked away having seen nothing. Long ago Sansa had learnt how to cover her scars, they'd faded in the years she'd been with Petyrbut they'd never be gone.

Set aside in the large room's corner was Jon Arryn in his casket almost as though he'd been pushed out of sight and mind by Lysa, despite that though there were still many gathered by him paying their last respects. She spied her Uncle Edmure with his wife Roslin over by the buffet table looking ready to die of boredom, they had a son about the same age as Tristan and Sansa wondered if her Uncle played with his son like Petyr did with Tris, probably not said her mind.

Suddenly her husband sighed deeply and clutched Sansa tighter breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm going to need whiskey for this." His tone was absent-minded but Petyr never said or did anything without thought.

"I'll get you a drink." She told him dutifully. "The bar is only over there." Sansa pointed off to the left.

"You sure, Sweetling?" Asked Petyr.

She was in an unknown place surrounded primarily by absolute strangers but Sansarefused to be that scared little girl changed to a bed, she was Sansa Baelish – AlayneBaelish to the world – wife of the most powerful and dangerous man in all of Westerosand she wouldn't let Joffrey, Duvall, Kaegan and Ramsay continue to dominate her life. The bar wasn't very far away so she'd remain in Petyr's sight at all times, that knowledge did wonders for her bravery and courage.

Baelish stood there for a moment just watching his wife's backside in her black dress that hugged her curves, he knew that a good ten other men did as well and knowing that only he could have her made Sansa all the more attractive to him. Gods he wanted her – always did – and nothing could bring down his happy mood.

"Petyr!"

Almost nothing. Lysa raced to his side and wrapped her arms around him in a vice-like grip, the horrid stench of her too floral perfume assaulted his nostrils and made him want to gag. His first reaction was to shove her as far from him as was physically possible and shoot her until he was sure she'd not be getting back up, Petyr was truly sick of being accosted by Lysa. However, Petyr just stood there and took it, he wanted Vale Limited and Lysa was the only way to get it, if he took over her late husband's company he'd have control of Lion and Stag's biggest rival; he'd truly dominate all.

With hidden disgust his green-grey orbs glanced over her, the dress she wore was much too tight and far too short as well as entirely inappropriate for a wake, on Sansa the dress would have been sexy but on Lysa it was almost traumatising.

"Hello Lysa." He'd intended to sound suave and confident but it came out rough, her perfume was burning his throat. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Lysa only gripped him tighter.

"Oh, you're so sweet and kind, Petyr. You always know how to make me feel better."

She leaned in and kissed his lips, it was that moment he saw Sansa half way back to him with a glass of whiskey in one hand... she looked heartbroken. Instantly Petyr pushed the widow away – as delicately as possible though he'd have loved to have killed her - and quickly went to Sansa, he took the crystal tumbler and snaked an arm around Sansa'swaist to pull her close.

"Thank you, My Love."

His darling wife was upset and calling her Sweetling wasn't going to cut it, that was his pet name for her but my love showed Sansa that she was where he kept his heart; Petyrneeded her to know that. He pressed his lips to Sansa's and kissed her with love, as much as he could get into the kiss. When he broke the kiss – and that was only because he knew that if he let it go one any longer he'd take her over the bar – Petyr set down his glass on a nearby table and held his girl's hand tightly.

"Lysa, this is my beautiful wife, Alayne. Sweetling, this is Lysa Arryn."

The widow tensed, she'd of course known Petyr had gotten married but she'd not expected someone who looked so much like Catelyn. Anger surged through her. The whore didn't deserve him! She wanted to launch at the slut and throttle her. Petyr cleared his throat.

"Lysa, I'd be more than willing to help with any questions you may have regarding Vale Limited. Anything I can do to help." Petyr flashed the widow one of his best fake smiles and Lysa quickly fell for it.

"Thank you, Petyr. Always so good to me."

Much to the husband's and wife's pleasure Anya Waynwood grabbed her attention and allowed them to make an escape, this wasn't how he'd intended for the evening to go, Petyr had intended to keep Sansa close and flash Lysa little smiles and glances that she'd believe meant far more than they really did, of course the crazy bitch had come alone and shot that all to shit.

"Sweetling, are you alright?" He asked the second they were out of sight of Jon Arryn'swidow.

"Can we go home, Master?"

For about two and a half years she'd only called him Master when scared or they were having sex, this was different though, this was like when he'd first found her, this was the old Sansa, the one who was cracked and broken.

"I love you." He needed her to know that. "Always. And I'm sorry but not yet, soon though. I'm sorry about your Aunt, she's... obsessed with me. I love you." Petyr tucked a stray strand of flame red hair behind her ear before pressing his lips to hers once more, soft and pink against his own, his stubble scraped against her cheek in a way that had become comforting to Sansa. "I love you." He whispered once more when they broke apart.

"I love you too, Master."

He had to flirt with Lysa to get her company and he'd done much worse to get what he wanted in the past... actually no, this is worse. What man in his right mind would give up perfect and beautiful Sansa, his wife, for the crazy known as Lysa Arryn? No one.

They only stayed long enough to seem polite and for him to set the beginnings of his plot in motion, throughout the whole ordeal Petyr kept an arm around her waist; a tether keeping her calm. Sansa had been so pleased when Petyr finally made polite goodbyes and lead her out to the Aston Martin, it was almost as though she could breathe again.

A s soon as they got home Sansa shot straight upstairs to her room leaving Petyr to sigh and strip off his overcoat. In the living room he found Olyvar sat on the black leather couch with an open book in his hand reading to Tris who was sat in his lap.

"Is Alyane alright?" He asked.

"She's fine." Said the CEO quickly. "Where is Poppy?"

"She was tired so I put her down for the night about ten minutes ago." There was a small pause. "You want me out, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Sure thing, Boss."

Easily Oly rose to his feet and handed young Tristan over to his father before setting the children's book down on the glass coffee table and went to the purple vestibule to get his jacket, the click of the front door closing was the only indication that Oly had left. For a moment Petyr just stood there with Tris in his arms, as usual Sansa had dressed him to look just like Petyr; a dark shirt and little leather shoes though he wore khaki pants unlike his father.

"Time for bed." He told his son but the boy didn't look impressed.

"Not tired, Daddy."

"Tristan, what did I teach you about lying?" Asked Petyr as he turned to the stairs to make his way up to Tristan's bedroom.

"Only when I can get away with it." Responded the young boy softly.

"That's my boy."

Tristan was indeed tired and was asleep almost as soon as Petyr had set him down in bed after changing him into his pyjamas. Lady settled down with Tristan and after checking on Poppy – who slept with her arms high above her head on the pillow – Petyr went to Sansain their bedroom.

"Sansa? Sweetling?"

He sat down at the bottom of the huge bed, Sansa lay on her side with her back to him. When she said nothing he lay down and pulled her to his chest, arms tight around her. Sometimes he forgot just how fragile Sansa could be, she often played her role of AlayneBaelish – brave and cunning with a sharp wit – so well that the horrors and pain slipped his mind.

"I love you, Sweetling. You know that. Your Aunt is deranged, always has been and for some reason she fixates on me." There was a pause and still Sansa said nothing. He sighed. "Do you remember before Poppy was born? The day you came into my office at the club and found Lysa sat on me?" Slowly she nodded. "I told you then that she meant nothing to me and she never will. I have you, My Love, my beautiful and perfect you. I have two wonderful children, I'm CEO of Lion and Stag Enterprises, the most powerful company in Westeros. Hell, I even have Lady. I'd never give up all that for a crazy, worthless nutjob like her. I lie and I cheat and I con people but I've never lied to you, I love you."

"I love you too, Master. It's just-" Sansa cut herself off and a grin appeared on Petyr'slips.

"You're jealous." His tone wasn't teasing or judging but he just couldn't help his grin.

His girl had become possessive of him and it sent a spark of pleasure down his spine, Petyr's hand ran down her thigh dipping into the crevice where her legs met; Sansa'stension left her.

"Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive." She turned to face him and Petyr felt honoured to see those beautiful cerulean orbs of hers. His thumb stroked over her cheek as he looked at her. "I bet the children hate me, I just ignored them."

"No they don't." Petyr told her assuredly. "Poppy is asleep and I just put Tristan to bed, Lady is with him."

His hands pulled her closer so her body was flat against his own, he pulled her into a kiss. He tasted like mint as always, his tongue licked along the seam of her lips begging entrance that she allowed easily, Petyr's tongue mapped out her mouth. Her arms reached up and tangled in his greying hair, her fingernails against his scalp sending a jolt of pleasure through his body and into his cock like a wave of electricity. A moan escaped her lips and she arched herself into his suit clad body cursing the layers between them. Petyr's firm hands drifted down to her hips holding her close and giving him the friction he needed as he pressed his erection against her before rolling onto his back so his girl straddled him. Another moan and he smiled, braking the kiss he lowered his head down to torment her neck. Sansa loved every single moment of his teeth nipping at her neck, he'd leave behind a bruise, one of love and passion rather than one of agony and hate that she'd felt for so much of her life.

"Say it, Sweetling." It was an order but nothing like the ones Joffrey and Ramsay had given her.

The redhead knew exactly what he wanted to hear, it had always made his ego growl with animalistic pleasure.

"Please, Master, I need you." A growl was exactly what she got.

"Let's get you out of that dress."

"I thought you liked this dress." She teased with mock annoyance.

"Oh I do, Sweetling. However, I like it even better off you."

He grinned devilishly and pulled down the tiny zip then quickly flipped them so he could pull the fabric down and cast it to the floor.

While Petyr had his wife practically screaming with ecstasy their children and Lady slept soundly. The day certainly hadn't gone how Petyr had hoped but it ended with his children safe and him buried inside the woman he loved so it wasn't all bad.


	5. Petyr And Pop

**Sorry this chapter is so short, the next one will be back to normal length.**

 **XXXX**

A few days had gone by and no news had come out about Cersei being discovered however, his connections in the KLPD had informed Petyr that Doctor Von Voltaire had ordered ground penetrating radar so it was only a matter of time until police found her body. He kept a close eye on that problem while dealing with his plot to take over Vale Limited. Now Jon was dead it meant that Lysa took over until her son was old enough to run thinks himself.

Sansa hated the idea of Petyr spending so much time with Lysa, not only because she knew the older woman would openly flirt and cling to _her_ husband but she also worried that her Aunt would recognise her even after more than a decade. All those thoughts and concerns flew around her brain as she sat on the deck steps with the sun shining down on her, eyes watching Petyr run around the huge fence-less yard with their son and daughter. Lady bounced around with them and barked every now and again. Petyr spent a lot of time behind a desk plotting and moving money around but since having Poppy he'd made time to play with the kids, Poppy was a Daddy's girl and often found herself being spoilt. He was a different man around his family, loving, caring, protective and kind and Sansa loved him with all her heart for that. Over the years the Baelish siblings had of course noticed that their father carried a gun in a shoulder holster under his suit jacket, Tristan had reached for it once and Petyr had nearly had a heart attack, since then he'd bought them water guns. Sansa had questioned him at first but he'd argued that it gave them something to play with distracting them from his and also ensured they weren't afraid of them. When they were old enough he planned to teach his children to protect themselves just as he had with Sansa.

The siblings charged around trying to soak their Daddy while giggling their heads off. Very, _very_ few people ever got to see Petyr's fun loving side and Sansa felt privileged to witness it. He was her Master, her saviour, her husband and the father of her beloved children and she loved him. Poppy's red hair glowed in the sunlight and Tristan's skin was the color of snow, wind danced through trees and the salty scent of the sea blew off the ocean up the nearby cliffs and up to caress Sansa's lungs.

Sansa wasn't stupid she knew Petyr wanted everything and now that he had Lion and Stag, Vale Limited was the only competition left, the only real competition anyway. Once he had Jon Arryn's company not only would he have the most powerful company in Westeros but also destroyed the biggest threat. There was also the added boon that taking everything from Lysa would crush her, and in his mind if Lysa had helped Cat when she'd asked for help all those years ago Sansa's siblings wouldn't have died horribly and Sansa wouldn't have suffered at the hands of Joffrey Baratheon. The beautiful redhead couldn't just sit there all day though, with a smile she rose to her feet and headed into the house to make the kids some lunch.

XXXX FLASHBACKXXXX

 _A f ifteen year old Petyr sat in the library of Hoster Tully's beach house when a young boy with dark hair entered the room, he was only a little taller than Petyr and the same age; only three months separated them . The boy of course had a real name but since meeting Petyr ten years previous had become known only as 'Pop' thanks to the fact he constantly had a lollipop. Petyr hadn't ever really wanted nor needed friends but Pop had worked his way into the older boy's life, both were cunning and didn't particularly like people so it had almost made sense for them to befriend one another._

" _How did I know I'd find you here?" Said Pop as he leaned against a bookshelf and folded his arms._

" _Maybe because you've known me for a decade and have acknowledged my enjoyment of reading." Petyr responded without even looking up from his book._

" _Oh ha ha, and stop sounding like you're forty."_ _Pop pushed himself off the heavy bookshelf and pulled the book from Petyr's hand. "Come on. Hoster Tully let you bring a friend on vacation and there's no way in hell I'm going to spend it inside with you."_

" _I don't feel like socializing much today, Pop."_

 _A bout eight months ago Petyr had gotten into a fight with Brandon Stark – the new boyfriend of Catelyn Tully – and had ended up with a pretty serious laceration from navel to collarbone, Pop's best friend had changed after that, grown darker and attempted to cut himself off but Pop wouldn't let him. Petyr would never admit it but he cared about Pop and as his best friend Pop was determined to return that. He tossed the book down and pulled Petyr up by his arm, he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer._

" _Come on." He said again. "You can carry on your dastardly plots out on the beach."_

" _Lysa will be out there no doubt."_

 _Pop tugged him out the library and off down the long hall towards the back door and out onto the beach._

" _She hates me, as long as I'm with you she'll leave you alone."_

 _The sun shined harshly leaving the sand hot and Petyr was quick to pull off his shirt, he tucked it into his belt while Pop followed suit. Petyr's scar had faded surprising quickly but there was no mistaking it was there and always would be, he leaned back against the rock and listened to the seagulls and waves crash against the shore; the sound of the ocean had always comforted him and he knew that was probably the real reason Pop had dragged him outside. The taller boy helped himself to little shells dusting sand from them while the sound of Cat, Edmure and Lysa played up on the ridge._

 _F or a while Petyr and Pop talked about unimportant things, both of them rested against the large craggy rocks that reminded them too much of the Fingers . After a while Pop had shuffled close to Petyr until he was close enough to press little kisses to his friends neck. Pop had always felt for Petyr, ever since they'd first met and Petyr just let him. Pop knew Petyr didn't love him, he was still in love with Cat, but Petyr had never made a single attempt to stop his friend. Maybe he was curious or possibly bisexual, maybe he only allowed it because he knew it made the taller boy happy, Pop didn't quite know and he had no intention of questioning it. Little did Pop know that all three were correct. Petyr knew his friend suffered greatly at the hands of his father for being gay, never got to be who he really was, Petyr was also curious and though in love with Catelyn Tully believed that gender was irrelevant, it wasn't just s at ing an itch but a means to an end. In all honesty, men, women, Petyr didn't much care; not that he was going to run around telling people that. There was also another reason for his little public display with Pop, Lysa could see them from up on the ridge and had a face like thunder, all that jealously looked ready to burst forth and Petyr found it deeply amusing. 'Well, if she thinks I'm gay she might leave me alone.' Out of curiosity to see if Lysa would indeed blow up he tilted Pop's chin up with a single finger and kissed the dark-haired boy. No such luck, she just stormed off into the large beach side house._

" _Will you stop being so vulgar, we're on a public beach." Announced Cat suddenly, neither boy had heard her approach, Edmure wasn't five steps behind her._

 _Cat was still angry with Petyr for the fight with her beloved Brandon, she'd always loved Petyr like a little brother and had begged for her boyfriend not to kill him. She'd never love him the way he wanted her to and after seeing the way Pop had devoted even more time to Petyr since his injury she suspected he'd soon get over her._

" _It's disgusting, Petyr." Said Edmure quickly from his big sister's side. "Father let him come because he felt sorry for him, not so you could make out."_

 _Cat flashed her brother a glare that shut him up pretty quickly before ushering him off in the direction Lysa had gone not a minute earlier._

 _Petyr loved that stunning redhead – or at least his teenage mind thought he did – but sometime he wondered if he'd be better off being gay, things would have been less complicated with Pop. He wasn't going to fall out of love with her any time soon though, Cupid had a firm grip on him._

XXXX

Doctor Von Voltaire had been on his knees – and not in a good way – for almost three hours going over the bodies that were still being discovered in Dwellers Hollow, he could find no discernible link between any of them save for the fact they were all dead and buried in the same place. Heyerdahl had been now his neck about it all day and frankly all Jefferson wanted to do was kill the older man, Seb had talked him out of that. _Damn that cunning man of mine._ Afternoon had just given way to early evening and Jefferson only knew one thing for certain, he needed a bloody drink. Thoughts for that drink were soon squashed though when one of the radar experts called him over urgently.

She stood by a large oak tree biting her thumb as another from her team marked yet another grave with a little flag. This one was off-set from the others but still matched up with the rows, it was also a couple of feet deeper than the rest, they'd nearly overlooked it.

Half an hour later and the body had been exhumed from the dark soil and set on a blue tarp for Von Voltaire to examine, of course no autopsy would be carried out until he had all the bodies back at his lab but often the first look provided the most clues. He had a lot of work ahead of him, and he didn't just mean the autopsies.

Sebastian had gone back to the station a good hour ago to start filling in the mountain of forms required for a case where the bodies just didn't seem to stop. Two-hundred-and- ninety-three was his count so far if he included the latest corpse before him, he'd have to call in a second or maybe even third Pathologist just to get through them all before winter came.

The Gothic joker quickly established that this new body was a female around forty years old and hadn't been there more than five years, half of the bodies they'd found had fully decomposed to skeletons so they'd been there a good eight to twelve years if not longer and a good proportion of the rest were nearing skeletonization. Insects had eaten much of her flesh and there were very old blood stains around what was left of her ears and upper lip where active decay had begun a few years previous. It didn't take an expert to work out this was the last victim or that she'd been shot one in the head and twice in the heart; this woman had been executed. Whoever had killed her wanted to be certain she'd never come back and they'd sure she wouldn't.

When it got too dark to work even with large powerful lights the teams packed up and left for the night, but Jefferson's work wasn't done, he had to go back to the Medical Examiner's office and set to work on autopsies; Voltaire was going to have one hell of an overtime bonus.

His mortuary was large and painted in an off-white that he'd never much cared for, the fridges lined the wall opposite the main door and filled the room with a quiet hum than he'd long since become deaf to. There were four tables each with a victims atop the silver metal in their body bag waiting for him to set to work and the doctor couldn't refuse them for long.


	6. The Lysa Arryn Conference

Petyr's meeting with Lysa regarding the future running of Vale Limited had been scheduled for noon sharp and of course Petyr was early, not because he wanted to see his wife's aunt but because he had a reputation of being unpredictable to keep. Petyr had woken up with Sansa curled up to his chest all safe and warm but he'd soon been forced to leave her and make his way into the financial district of King's Landing after checking on his daughter and son, Petyr had always been the first one up. All that had been five house ago, since then he'd been to Lion and Stag to deal with the pile of paperwork on his desk and then driven to Vale Limited and strutted inside to the reception desk. Petyr set his briefcase down before speaking to the mildly attractive brunette behind the dark desk.

"Petyr Baelish. I'm here to see Lysa-" The receptionist cut him off much to his annoyance.

"Yes, she's expecting you, Mister Baelish. Missus Arryn is waiting for you on the top floor in Mister Arryn's office. You can go straight up if you'd like."

No, no he wouldn't like to _go straight up_ he wanted to go home to Sansa and teach his children to dominate the world, but he was determined to get his hands on Vale Limited. He went up in the elevator knowing that as soon as Lysa came near him he'd reek of her horrendous perfume, no doubt he'd make sure to bin his suit, thank God he'd not worn on of his favourites. There was a quiet ping before the silver doors rolled open and Petyr stepped out quickly intent on going directly to Jon's – Lysa's – office, he'd been there enough time to know his way around the thirty-five floor building pretty well. _My building's bigger_ muttered his ego.

There was a young blonde man sat at the assistant's desk outside Lysa's office, couldn't have been more than twenty-five and Petyr knew that he'd had been hired since Jon's death. Jakob Carsyn had been Jon's assistant for almost ten years and the blonde certainly wasn't Jakob Carsyn; _she's always liked the pretty ones._

Half way across the room Yohn Royce – Vale Limited's CFO – blocked his path.

"What brings you here, Baelish?" The older man asked. "You're building is a block over."

"I know. It's the big one in the middle of the financial district that's taller than all the others, but thanks reminding me."

"Petyr!"

Baelish cringed when he heard Lysa's overly happy voice and wanted to floor to open up and swallow him whole, no such luck. She stood in the doorway of her late husband's office and had quickly attracted the attention of just about everyone on the whole floor.

"Good luck." Grumbled Royce under his breath before going back to his office.

As soon as he stepped through the threshold Lysa slammed the door shut and threw herself at him.

"Oh Petyr, I'm so glad you're here."

The repugnant woman gripped him tight and the overpowering stench of her much too floral perfume almost had him gagging, whatever she was wearing burnt his eyes like acid. He much preferred Sansa's perfume, it was a soft sweet fragrance of jasmine that only added to her natural scent. Frankly Petyr needed some painkillers because Lysa had given him a headache, add the fact that Lysa had locked them behind closed doors rather than a much preferred conference room and it was fairly evident that Baelish wasn't having a good day.

She clung to him tighter as though he were the only sturdy tree in a flood, Petyr's initial reaction had been to push her away and bleach every exposed patch of his skin – though he doubted that would actually get rid of her perfume – but he restrained himself. When her infatuation had first started all those years ago Littlefinger had actually been a little flattered but it had died off very, _very_ quickly as her little crush had turned to obsession, he couldn't stand in a room for more than thirty seconds before she was by his side hanging off him like a virus. As a teenager it had some days been so bad that he'd wished Hoster Tully hadn't ever taken him in, however, if he hadn't Petyr wouldn't have had anything and Pop wouldn't have had a safe haven away from his father. That was all in the past though.

"I'm so glad you're here." She told him again. "You being here makes everything all better."

Petyr fought off the urge to crawl out of his skin like a snake and pull a skedaddle, instead he managed to calmly disentangle himself from the crazy bitch known as Lysa Arryn and sat himself down at the small meeting table by the window. The office wasn't god awful – Lysa hadn't got her idea of taste anywhere near it yet – but Baelish much preferred his own office back at Lion and Stag, he could see the ocean from there instead of grey buildings and Sansa was only an office door away. He did however, like the older Jackson Pollock hanging behind the desk, _maybe I'll move it to the main conference room at Lion and Stag, this whole place will be mine soon enough anyway._ He opened up his briefcase and gestured for Lysa to sit, she watched eagerly as he took out a notepad and pen; he liked to keep things old school.

"You've only just gained this company but of course it will be Robin's-" Lysa interrupted.

"My sweet boy."

"Indeed. As I said at the wake, I'm more than willing to help you with the company and learning how to run it efficiently. I know you already have Jon's board of executives but they're focused on the company and it's profits not teaching you to be a good CEO until Robin comes of age."

"Jon never thought I could!" She growled and grabbed hold of Petyr's hand as though they belonged to her. "But you," she grinned. "you see I can do anything, you've always believed in me Petyr."

 _I've believed you're fucking crazy,_ muttered his mind.

"Of course, Lysa." He smiled back at her but it didn't reach his eyes like the smiles he gave Sansa and his mini world dictators.

Petyr had been after Vale Limited for years and only now Jon Arryn was gone did he actually stand a chance at absorbing it into Lion and Stag, all Petyr had to do was play nice and flirt until he could rip it out from under her.

"First things first, you'll need to show your strength. We don't want anyone trying to cast you aside from your own company, we should take a look at the executives and find out who isn't pulling their weight. Finding them and getting rid will jolt the others into making their work more productive."

"So wise." She all but sang.

 _This is going to be too easy._

~X~

Sansa knew Petyr wanted Vale Limited, had done even before he'd found her chained under Joffrey's bed. She was also fully aware that he didn't want to spend so much time with her Aunt Lysa but it still upset her. Sansa still suffered from the fear that her life with Petyr was a cruel dream and one say she'd wake up to find Joffrey and Ramsay still lived and wanted nothing more than her pain, the thought that her children would never have existed hurt the most. The redhead believed in her husband though, always had and always would, she was the only one he ever told the truth to.

A knock at the front door jolted Sansa from her thoughts and back to the world around her, Tristan and Poppy played on the floor while Lady snoozed in her dog bed beside the large L shaped leather couch; everything was alright. She took a deep breath to steady herself then rose from her place on the floor beside her children and went to answer the door, she remembered the first time she'd seen the huge vestibule with its winding staircase and dark purple walls and large mockingbird sculpture on a table in the middle of the circular room, it had amazed her then and in all honesty Sansa still couldn't quite believe she lived here.

The door opened and Sansa found a young woman with blonde hair holding a huge glass vase of flowers, the girl grinned.

"Hello there, I have a delivery for a Missus Alayne Baelish."

"That's me." Sansa still wasn't comfortable talking to people, especially without Petyr, but she'd learnt to appear pleasant and confident.

"Great! Could you just sign here?"

Suddenly a notepad with a delivery address and time marked down in blue ink was shoved towards the redhead along with a pen and Sansa quickly scrawled the signature of Alayne Baelish like she had so many times before.

"Thanks, here you go. Have a nice day, Missus Baelish." With that the young blonde woman turned and went back to her car.

Carefully Sansa took the vase into the house and set it down on the kitchen island away from the kids who still played on the floor. The arrangement was substantially large and made up of nothing but red roses – and a little few sprigs of hard Ruscus – Sansa didn't know how many roses were in the bouquet but she'd lost count at thirty-eight and she'd not even been half way through. Neatly sat in the top was a small envelope that she pulled free, instantly she recognised Petyr's handwriting when she opened it up.

 _For my Sweetling, I love you. X_

 _P._

Sansa beamed, he knew he'd upset her at Jon Arryn's wake and just like Petyr he'd made it all better. Of course Petyr loved her, she knew she didn't have to worry about her aunt but it was still nice to have the gesture. Her heart swelled and all she wanted in that moment was to kiss the man she loved.

Suddenly another knock came at the door and Sansa wondered if he'd gone over the top, she didn't need him to shower her with riches. The door opened once more and the redhead raised an eyebrow when she was met with the same blonde woman that had handed her the roses.

"Sorry, I completely forgot about these."

She held out a single flower wrapped in clear cellophane with a big red bow and a small box wrapped on blue. Sansa chuckled when she saw the flower, a poppy, _no mistaking who that's for then._

"Thank you."

Once more the front door closed and Sansa went back to her children and sat cross-legged on the floor, unsurprisingly the woman at the door hadn't woken up Lady.

"Poppy, someone got you a present." She handed Poppy the stem of her namesake and pointed to the little card attached to the bow, with a little help from Mommy she got it open. "What does that say huh?"

"Daddy!" The girl beamed

"Yeah, that's right, it's from Daddy. It says 'A poppy for my Poppy. Daddy loves you'." Poppy continued to beam and with surprising care for a three year old propped it up against one of her cuddly toys; a panda that went just about everywhere with her. "Come here Tristan. Let's see what Daddy got for you."

The dark-haired boy pushed himself up and padded over to Sansa where he sat in her lap and took the blue present. Sansa found herself curious as to what was inside since Tristan wasn't one for flowers, Tristan ripped the paper away with enthusiasm and let out a giggle when he found a toy fire engine underneath the blue paper. _Of course,_ thought Sansa. Tristan had been begging for the fire engine since he'd first seen it advertised. The fire engine was rather large and quite clearly expensive but Sansa wasn't surprised, the children of Petyr Baelish wanted for nothing, sometime she did worry that he spoilt them though.

"Can I play outside?" Asked the little boy with a smile, eager to play with his new toy.

"Sure, let's put your shoes on first." Said Sansa as she stood him up and then lifted Poppy into her arms. "We'll all go out."

The day was nice enough and Petyr's little gifts had brought a smile to her face.

~X~

Petyr had almost lost the will to live sat in a now dead John Arryn's office with Lysa, he'd been there an hour and couldn't take much more. Every time he got on to the subject of the company and started getting towards the information he needed Lysa back tracked and started on about some crap and how much they cared for one another. He was starting to wonder if she'd actually seen Sansa at the wake. Sansa: his wife, beautiful, kind, caring, brave, smart, dangerous, cunning and most importantly the mother of his children. Lysa: annoying, crazy, mistook obsession for love, had no sense of fashion, creeped the hell out of him, had a drug problem and oh yes, Petyr hated her. _How would anyone choose Lysa over my sweet Sansa?_ _They'd have to be blind, deaf and well paid._

Suddenly Lysa rose to her feet and Petyr raised an eyebrow, two when she sat down in his lap and threw her arms around his neck, Gods he wanted to push her off something, a roof maybe. The aged redhead snuggled into his suit and that was the moment Petyr was certain it was another one for the scrap heap; she kissed his neck.

"You smell so good." Lysa purred into his chest and Baelish did his best not to throw up or hang himself.

He'd hoped he could get at Vale Limited through cunning and his raw intellect but Lysa was just too obsessed for any of it to get through. Petyr hadn't thought it possible to love Sansa more than he already did but Lysa kissing him was doing it.

"Jon's gone now." She muttered as kisses continued to sicken him. "He's gone and we can be together."

 _Wait, what?_ Baelish's mind ground to a halt for a moment or two. Did she honestly thing-? _Oh, hell no!_ He needed to slow her down and try to get a handle on the situation, put a pin in the conversation to see if it was something he could later exploit.

"I'm married, Lysa." He told her with fake sorrow. "And people would be too suspicious so soon after Jon's death."

"I don't care!"

"I know, but it could hurt both our companies, Vale Limited in Robin's future." _Yes, play the child angle that'll work._

"I don't want to be patient any longer, Petyr. Father made me marry Jon, I was forced, but that's all over now. It's just you and me."

 _And my immense hatred of you,_ added Petyr's mind. He put on his best charismatic smile softly tucked a strand of hair behind her eat.

"You're right, you shouldn't have to wait but please, for me? Your husband is gone but my wife is still an issue, she's also my VP. If you're patient for me I'll owe you so much, Lysa."

"Okay." Lysa relented, but she pulled Petyr closer. "For you, but I don't like it."

"Thank you, we can talk more about that later. Now, I need to help you run this company."

Lysa grinned at him as though he were her guardian angel completely unaware that Petyr was pushing her back to her own seat away from him.

"You're so good to me, Petyr." Lysa grinned stupidly.

He didn't respond to that, just carried on with what he'd gone there to say.

"You need to show you're strong, Lysa. The executives knew what Jon was capable of, show them you're strong enough to replace him. The next six months will be rough but with my help you'll be unstoppable. And when Robin is old enough to take over, I'll be right there to help him too." _Yes, right on out the door and off to the nearest McDonalds for a job application._

"Oh Petyr, just think-" She beamed in that crazy way of hers. "soon we'll have the two most powerful companies in Westeros and be united."

She sounded so excited and Petyr couldn't wait to burst that bubble. Lion and Stag and Vale Limited would be united but it would be under his control and Sansa would be his queen, _not_ Lysa.

"That little whore you're married to will be gone and we can be happy."

It took all Petyr strength not to launch over the table and beat her to death, Lysa could say whatever the hell she wanted about him, he'd let it all roll off of him but his darling Sansa was another story. She was perfect and his. He'd expected Lysa to be more suspicious of him since Sansa was younger and far more beautiful but her want and stupidity had blinded her, Petyr had hardly had to even try, Lysa had convinced herself of Petyr's love for her.

Sansa was his Queen, not Lysa, never Lysa.


	7. Conditions

Sansa sat in her office with the kids playing quietly over by the large window with Lady on the couch while Sansa watched them from behind her desk. Petyr had ordered his rarely used driver to pick her and the children up and take them to Lion and Stag, both of them liked to have at least one of them in the office every day – usually Petyr – but Sansa hadn't been around for a while and it had been mutually decided that she needed to make an appearance.

Suddenly her office door was kicked open and she was instantly back underneath Joffrey's bed, the heavy leather collar around her neck keeping her there bound while she prayed he would just pass out for the night. Everything was black, only the sound of her heart beat thudding in her chest, she couldn't breath, could think... and then Lady nuzzled into her leg; she growled slightly at the newcomer.

Steadily the darkness faded away and Sansa remembered she was safe, Joffrey was dead, Petyr had made sure of that, her children were happy and close. With a deep breath she glanced up to see Athelstan Creed, his face red and angry but Sansa's hearing only seemed to turn back on half way through his rant.

"... You can't fucking fire me! I'm CTO not some low-level fucking twat. I'm not taking this from Varys, Baelish can tell me him-fucking-self or you can all fuck off, I'll not be fired for no reason."

Poppy was crying, the loud screaming had scared her and Tristan had pulled his sister close; he was so protective of her.

"Get out!" Yelled the little boy as Lady marched over them to do her guard dog bit.

That got to Sansa, she wasn't that scared little girl any longer, she wasn't a slave, she was Sansa Baelish the wife of the most powerful man in Westeros, mother of his children. Sansa was strong, she was powerful, and as Vice President she wasn't going to take crap from Athelstan Creed of all people. The redhead channelled her inner Petyr and took a deep breath then shot to her feet.

"Creed, I don't care who you are or where you came from. You may have been good enough for Tywin Lannister but you're certainly not good enough for Petyr and Alayne Baelish. You're not being 'fired for no reason', it's because _you_ left our system open with a big neon sign saying _install honeypot here_! Now, you heard my son, get out. Pack up your office and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out because I don't want ass prints on my door."

She hoped Althelstan left soon because her confidence had started to fade. It was then she heard snickering and realised the door was still open, she could just see Varys, Gwendolyn and her own assistant, Lenore, in the doorway. Varys wasn't actually laughing but there was that amused glint in his eyes. Creed didn't move, just stood there while Tristan soothed his sister's tears, stood there in shock. This man had made her daughter cry and that knowledge refilled her confidence.

"Don't make me call Sandor." She growled.

At that Creed finally stormed off, he shoved past Varys and the two assistants. Finally Sansa's confidence faded away completely and she raced to her children, Tristan had calmed Poppy to the point her tears had stopped but she was still visibly upset. The redhead wrapped her arms around her son and daughter and pressed a kiss to Poppy's head she vaguely registered Varys talking.

"Gwendolyn, would you please have Mister Clegane called anyway?" Petyr's assistant nodded. "Thank you."

With that the CHRO made his way into Sansa's office as the two assistants disbursed and closed the door. Varys always carried a calming aura, he seemed to be able to sooth anyone and Sansa was actually thankful for his presence in that moment.

"I'm sorry about that, Alayne." He began slowly. "Baelish asked me to fire him since he's in a meeting and Athelstan didn't take it too well. When he remembered our beloved CEO isn't here he decided kicking down your door would be a good idea. That's the second firing this week and both have blown up."

"It's alright, Varys." She told him after a moment once she was sure Poppy and Tristan were alright. "Would you mind asking Lenore to get me some tea, please?"

"Of course." The bald man nodded slightly. "Again, I apologise for the intrusion and hope the children are alright."

With that he left Sansa's office and quiet descended again. The redhead sat there a moment with her son and daughter before she pulled Poppy onto her knee and Tristan closer.

"Mommy's sorry.

"Don't like man." Grumbled Poppy into her mother's chest.

"No one does, Sweetheart. That's why Daddy had Varys get rid of him. Are you two alright?"

"Yes, Mommy." Said Tristan as he offered Copper – Sansa's toy cat that had over the years become Tristan's – to his little sister. "Love you."

"I love you both too. Very much."

Sansa pressed a little kiss to Tristan's forehead, they were such caring children when it came to one another and their parents but she and Petyr had seen them at play dates; they were all their father underneath.

"Want Daddy!" Poppy suddenly demanded with a shake of her little fists, Sansa wasn't surprised since Poppy was a Daddy's girl.

"I know, Angel, I do too. He should be back soon, Daddy is dealing with your Great Aunt Lysa." This time both Poppy and her big brother grumbled. "He's making your favourite for dinner though."

It was beef Quinoa rissoles, but the kids didn't know that, they just thought it looked like a cool bun-less beef burger; Sansa and Petyr had decided it didn't matter as long as the kids ate without complaints. Actually, when Sansa thought about it, Tristan nor Poppy had ever turned their noses up at something Petyr had made them, if it was because he was a good cook or because they knew it wasn't wise to refuse Petyr Baelish she didn't know.

Poppy and Tristan snuggled into their mother while Lady settled down beside them after a while, Sansa just held them close. Creed was gone, Sansa had been brave, her children were safe.

XXXX

Petyr was driving back to Lion and Stag when his cellphone rang, a quick glance down to where it sat in the mount revealed it to be Gwendolyn. Petyr sighed and rolled the window down further so he could toss his cigarette butt out and then answered.

"Yes, Gwendolyn?"

"Hello, Sir, I just thought you'd like to know that Mister Creed has been fired. Mister Clegane walked him out a few minutes ago... after he stormed into your wife's office." Petyr tensed. "He nearly kicked the door of its hinges, Sir, and yelled at her while your children were with her."

"Is she alright? Poppy and Tristan?" There was unmistakable anger in his tone and had it been a video call he'd have seen Gwendolyn flinch.

"Yes, Sir. Missus Baelish handled him quite well and basically handed him his ass."

Petyr smirked at that. "That's my girl." He mused aloud before he remembered Gwendolyn was still on the line. "Have the CTO office cleaned before Lothor Brune moves in. God only knows what Athelstan's been doing in there."

Lothor Brune was a man of similar age to Baelish and though not conventionally handsome he certainly wasn't ugly. The two men had known one another for years and Petyr had found him to be a very loyal and naturally tight-lipped man; of course Petyr approved of that. He'd wanted to bring Lothor in years ago but Tywin had always shut him down, yet Tywin was gone now and Petyr could do as he damn well pleased.

"Yes Sir." A pause. "Oh, Lenore says Missus Baelish has just requested a car to take her and the children home."

That didn't surprise Petyr in the slightest. "Alright. I'll be back at the office within the hour."

"Very good, Sir."

With that Gwendolyn hung up and Petyr returned to his music. Birds squawked up high above but fortunately the song drown them out.

 _Well you hate the way I shuffle_  
 _But you love the way I deal_  
 _You don't mind if I borrow_  
 _But you'd rather watch me steal_  
 _You take what you've forgiven_  
 _And you put it in a drug_  
 _In case you need it later_  
 _Just to even up the score_

 _Oh, oh, how did we get in to this mess?_  
 _Oh, I know, gotta get you out_  
 _Out of that little black dress._

After his meeting with Lysa all he wanted to do was brush his teeth, shower, down a glass of bourbon and pound Sansa into the nearest available surface; in that order. The man with ash at his temples wanted to go home to his wife and kids but he couldn't, Petyr had far too much work to do if he wanted to take Vale Limited out from under Lysa's feet.

It ended up being nine-thirty by the time he got home, relatively early for him in the grand scheme of things but very late to Tristan and Poppy who had already gone to bed; they'd no doubt hate him in the morning.

Petyr didn't say a single word to Sansa as he entered the kitchen and poured himself a cut crystal tumbled of bourbon – something he'd craved all day – and downed it in one go. Sansa signed, it was a clear sign that her husband was agitated. Once he was done Petyr slammed the glass down and pulled the redhead into his arms and kissed her forcefully, almost as though it were desperation; his grip on her was tight.

"Are you alright, Master?" Asked Sansa, she knew the title would calm him down, soothe him.

"Yes, Sweetling." Petyr nodded and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her right ear. "I'm fine."

"Please don't lie to me, what's wrong?"

Baelish sighed and pulled his wife close, he couldn't resist resting his chin atop her head.

"I saw your Aunt Lysa today-"

"I know," she interrupted "you stink of her."

"I'm sorry, my love." He truly was, he hated smelling like her, he finally pulled back from his young wife and rubbed large hands over his face. "She's gone off the deep end, Sansa. Robin isn't enough incentive to push her anymore, she wants-" Petyr cut himself off with a sigh.

"You." She finished for him and her face dropped.

"Yes, Sweetling, but I'm yours so she can't have me, can she?"

Petyr had lied and cheated his way through life but not with Sansa, he'd never lied to her. She was his wife, the one person he cared about more than power – save for his children of course – he'd not lie to her. There was a pause where Petyr thought Sansa would cry but he should have known his girl was braver than that.

"How badly do you want that company and what does it mean if we don't have it?" She cuddled into his chest as she spoke.

"Very badly. I've been after that company since Lysa married Jon Arryn. And if we don't have Vale Limited then it means we have a gargantuan rival on our doorstep. On her own Lysa would run the place into the ground but Royce and the other executives actually know what they're doing. As long as they exist under their own power they'll be a threat. Vale Limited has always been cocky and from a legal standpoint they're unpredictable, if they really decide to push there might not be anything Lion and Stag can do to stand up to it."

Sansa nodded. "Then take it."

Petyr raised an eyebrow as his eyes shot down to his beautiful wife.

"Sweetling."

"Playing along with what Lysa wants is the only way to get it?" Petyr nodded. "Then play along and take the company."

Suddenly she grabbed hold of his chin and pulled him down to look her in the eye, eye contact wasn't nearly as unheard of as it had been before Poppy had been born but it was still rare. Her grip on him actually hurt a little, it was one of the few and very far between moments of dominance that Sansa had locked up inside her; it made him want to bend her over couch and take her there and then.

"There are conditions."

"Anything, my love." She loved it when Petyr called her that.

It was true, he'd long believed no woman was worth dying for, killing for, but not dying for. Sansa had him rethinking that, she was worth dying for. He'd do anything for her and their children.

"You don't kiss me until you've washed her out of your mouth... _ever_." He nodded, he always did that anyway, hence the bourbon he'd downed. "You never tell her you love her, I know those words would be a lie but still you don't tell her. You don't fuck her, and she goes _nowhere_ near Tristan or Poppy."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sweetling. Are you sure you're alright with this?" He enquired softly as his hands ran through her long red hair.

Sansa nodded and leant into his touch. "You killed and destroyed the Lannisters because of what they did to me and my family. My mother asked Lysa to take care of me and my siblings because she knew something was wrong, I remember that, it's faint but it's there. Lysa refused. She's practically responsible for my brothers, sister and cousin dying. So, I want you to make her happy and then I want you to take it all away from her."

Petyr beamed. "You want me to crush her? Oh, Sweetling, you are perfect. My dark, depraved, perfect Sansa."

He pulled Sansa to him and kissed her once more, his large hands trailed down to cup her backside and then he lifted her into his arms only to press her against the nearest wall. Petyr struggled to think of a more perfect creature. Sometimes Baelish wondered who possessed the real power in their relationship; him or her. Sansa could make him do just about anything without even asking, he'd taught her well, maybe a little too well.

 **XXXX**

 **Lyrics are Little Black Dress by Jace Everett, who, just fyi, is the nicest man I have ever met. Really goes out of his way for his fans.**


	8. The Private Lives Of Cops

Petyr strutted into Vale Limited as though he owned the place because... well, he soon would. In his hand he held a small pink paper bag from a bakery and sandwich shop not too far from his club, Baelish flashed Royce a smile as he walked straight past him uncaring as to the older man's annoyance and into the late Jon Arryn's office. Inside he found Lysa staring out the window seemingly at nothing but she surged with happiness, Lysa spun around and beamed at him with that psychotic smile of hers. It took everything Petyr had not to recoil.

"Petyr!" The redhead launched at him and snuggled deep into Petyr's chest, how he longed for it to be Sansa in his arms. "What are you doing here?"

Baelish grinned, not like the real ones he showed Sansa or his children, no, Lysa didn't deserve one of those, the grin he gave her was fake and disarming.

"Well, you're just been bereaved so I thought some cheering up was in order. I brought lunch."

Lysa took the bag. "You're so thoughtful and wonderful, Petyr. So good to me."

In truth bringing lunch had been Sansa's idea, Gods he loved his depraved angel and her clever little ideas. When he'd first found her Sansa had been scared of her own shadow but now, after the Lannisters and two children Sansa was just as cunning as he was.

"Won't your wife wonder where you are?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"Who cares." Petyr huffed as though he didn't love his darling wife, even he struggled to tell that lie. "Besides, I told her I was going to a meeting and we are in your office."

Lysa chuckled. "Loophole, I like it."

"Well, I am crafty."

Meanwhile across the city at Petyr's club was Sansa and the children, Tristan and Poppy played on the dark couch with their toys and Lady while Sansa drew up the new rota for the new staff. Petyr usually did that job – it was his club – but her husband was busy conning Lysa and had started teaching Sansa about business when she'd become VP of Lion and Stag. Petyr had taken the redhead from nothing, just fear and pain and turned her into a strong young woman. That just made her love him all the more. She didn't want to think about Petyr and the fact he was with Lysa, letting her put her bony fingers on _her_ husband. Still, Petyr really wanted Vale Limited and Sansa wanted her aunt to have her whole world ripped out from under her like Sansa and her family had. Maybe Petyr had taught his wife a little too well.

Suddenly the door crashed open ending the silence and Katrina marched in with a glare. The Baelish children jumped but ignored Katrina's yelling, after Athelstan Creed's stunt days earlier they'd almost grown used to it... Sansa didn't know how to feel about that.

"What the hell?! You can't fire me! Who do you think you are?!"

Frankly Sansa had used up her weeks quota of confidence but she forced herself to resist the memories of Joffrey and Ramsay.

"Quiet!" That shut Katrina up because she'd certainly not expected the boss' softly spoken and quiet wife to growl. "You don't yell in front of my children. And as for who I think I am, I'm Alayne Baelish. Now, I don't owe you anything so get out before I have you thrown out. Understood?"

Katrina opened her mouth to complain and yell but it seemed to click with her that pissing off Baelish's wife would have gotten more of a reaction out of him that pissing the man himself off would have.

"Fine!" Was the last thing she said before she stormed out.

Sansa really hoped that people storming into shout at her was over and done with, her head dropped down against Petyr's desk, she desperately forced her fear down. The dark memories started to descend upon her but then, Tristan, bless his soul, called out to her and pulled her back to the real world.

"Mommy?"

She looked over to her eldest child with a light smile. "Yeah... yes, baby boy? Don't worry, Mommy is fine. Come here."

Sansa rose to her feet and went to pull him into her arms for a cuddle, as soon as she had him close Sansa sat down and pulled Poppy to her hip with Lady at her feet.

"Love you, Mommy."

That made Sansa smile and she gave him a little squeeze.

"I love you to, Tris. Both of you, very much."

"Want Daddy!" Poppy suddenly demanded as she did most days.

Sansa just chuckled, Poppy may have been the spitting image of her mother but she was all her father, a total Daddy's girl. The perfect melding of his brains and her beauty.

"Later, Angel. Daddy is working on destroying someone for Mommy. How about I tell you a story?"

Both Tristan and Poppy perked up at that.

XXXX

It was very late when Jefferson went to Sebastian at his desk in the bullpen long after everyone had clocked off; including Heyerdahl. The place was dark save for Sebastian's desk lamp and Jefferson knew if he hadn't gone to get his boyfriend the man wouldn't have moved from that desk until morning.

"You ever coming home, baby?" The Medical Examiner asked with a smirk.

Sebastian sighed and raked a hand through his black hair before he reached for a bag of M&Ms sat beside his keyboard.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart." He shovelled some of the sweet treats into his mouth, that man's sweet tooth would get him killed one day. "Heyerdahl is breathing down my neck with this Dwellers Hollow case."

"I know the amount of bodies and the measures taken to prevent identification has to be professional-"

DS Larroquette nodded. "And you know what that means."

"Uh-huh, our lives are about to get a hell of a lot more complicated."

There was a pause and Jefferson pulled the bag of M&Ms safely away from the man he loved, Sebastian pouted but he'd never admit to it.

"Come on you, enough with the candy. You eat too much of that stuff."

"Always have." He chuckled as he adjusted his sibley gasses with a single finger.

"I'm hiding your Twinkies and lollipops. It's for your own good."

"Evil." Grumbled Sebastian with mock annoyance then rose to his feet and pulled his leather jacket on.

Sebastian had dark bags under his eyes, always did he never slept properly, and Jefferson wondered about booking a trip away for them, something to force Sebastian to get some sleep.

"What do you say to Thai food for dinner?"

"Make it Chinese and you have yourself a deal."

Jefferson smirked, if Sebastian got a chance at Chinese food he would take it. Sebastian leant down to his the shorter man. Jefferson nodded in agreement and took his lovers hand as they slowly made their way out of the office and towards the elevator.

"I need to be in early tomorrow for an autopsy. Some woman shoved off in the corner of the site. She was buried at the same depth and had all the same preventative measures taken to hide her identity but it's almost like she didn't deserved to be with all the other corpses." Said Jefferson in a tone unbefitting to the subject of dead bodies.

"Heyerdahl wont be happy until this professional is behind bars and he can take the credit." Grumbled the waistcoat clad man.

"It's about bloody time they promote you to DI."

The elevator doors rolled open then, they stepped out and headed towards the parking lot so they could finally go home. Sebastian just raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, until Heyerdahl is gone that's not going to happen. You know what he's like, I'm a faggot so I don't deserve to be anything more than a Detective Sergeant."

Jefferson sighed as they approached the car. "Enough about the homophobic monster, I'm hungry and horny."

Sebastian chuckled to himself. "Well we better get home then."

The next morning Oren stormed down into the morgue with Sebastian not far behind him to see Jefferson, Heyerdahl burst into the white painted mortuary which caused all the assistants to jump, Jefferson though had grown used to the overly tall bully and his bull in a china shop routine.

"Doctor Von Voltaire, you'd better have some good news for me!"

Sebastian and Jefferson shared a look, the Medical Examiner really needed to speak with his lover but Oren had gotten there first.

"Em, yes. It's almost impossible to identify the bodies we've exhumed so far," The Gothic man began as he continued on with the body before him "too much decay and whomever buried them didn't want us to know who they were. This one though," he gestured to the naked corpse before him. "she's only been in the ground two to four years."

The body had discolored to a murky brown and had had stretched and torn in places where internal organs had bloated. Blonde hair seemed more like straw and the eyes were sunken. The skin around her nails and mouth and pulled back leaving an almost pained expression but the thing that drew everyone's attention initially was the bullet wound to the forehead.

DI Heyerdahl glanced down to the body. "Is that Cersei fucking Lannister?"

Sebastian took a breath. "Well, our problems just got bigger."

"Voltaire," Oren growled "I want to know everything! Cersei Lannister vanished from Dorne, how the fuck did she get here?

"Afraid I can't help you on her travel plans but I can tell you she was shot point blank in the left side of the head, which means two things. One, she saw it coming. Two, your killer is more than likely right handed since the wound is to the left part of her forehead."

"She knew who killed her?" DI Heyerdahl demanded and the two lovers shared a look once again.

"Not necessarily. Cersei Lannister was disliked by a lot of people, Sir, some she knew others she didn't. It's not my job to figure that out. Just because the killer got close doesn't mean they knew one another."

Oren pointed to Cersei's body. "I want this autopsy report on my desk within the hour. Larroquette, I think it's time you called Dorne and Jaime Lannister."

Without so much as a 'thank you, Voltaire', Oren was gone leaving Jefferson and Sebastian stood there.

"Good luck." Doctor Von Voltaire smirked to his lover.

"Hmm," grumbled the waistcoat clad man. "I think I need it. Lunch later?"

Jefferson nodded. "Sure."

The Gothic Medical Examiner watched as the man he loved turned to leave and once again the mortuary found peace and quiet for which the assistants and forensic photographer were grateful. DI Oren Heyerdahl was going to become utterly unmanageable until this mass murdered was found... if he ever even was.


	9. Petyr's A Good Man But Shh It's A Secret

Petyr woke up to the phone beside his bed screaming at him, it was dark and for a second he'd thought he was blind. Sansa had jolted awake – loud noises always terrified her – and rolled over to face her husband as she steadily blinked awake. With a groggy groan the man with ash at his temples pushed himself up from his stomach and grabbed the phone.

"Yes?" His voice was littered with sleep as he raked a hand over his face and turned to sit with his back against the headboard.

Sansa flicked on a lamp then glanced up at her Master, his face looked pained.

"Hello, Lysa darling."

 _Ah, that's why._ Lysa had become increasingly persistent over the last few weeks, probably because Petyr had started to get somewhere with taking Vale Limited out from under her and little Robin. However, calling him at three-sixteen in the fucking morning when she had to have known Petyr would be in bed with his wife was something new. Carefully Sansa extracted herself from the bed covers and padded off out the bedroom to check on the kids while Petyr dealt with her aunt.

Bare feed made their way down the dark hallway and into Tristan's room where she found her eldest fast asleep, his face lit by the soft glow of his night-light and Lady curled up at the bottom of his bed. Her boy had Copper cuddled close and she couldn't help but smile; that toy had brought her so much comfort once upon a time and now it did the same for Tristan. Quietly Sansa closed the door and turned to the door opposite, sure enough Poppy was fast asleep as well. The room was a bit of a mess but she could tidy it up at a more reasonable hour. Sansa had already decided she'd stay home the next day – which she always prefered – she wanted to take the kids down to the little hidden beach where Petyr had taught her to swim and let them color while she sketched the shore.

When Sansa returned to the bedroom she found Petyr had sourced himself not just a glass of Bourbon but the whole bloody bottle; he swigged from it almost as though he were self-medicating. After a moment he saw her and raised the bottle in silent offer, Sansa shook her head as she clambered back onto the bed and let Petyr cuddle her in close.

"Nah, she fell asleep downstairs. Toss a blanket over her and leave her, that's all Alayne needs." He said into the phone while he kissed at the top of her head. His words had no love in them but his actions certainly did; love vibrated through his fingertips and into her skin. "Of course I'd rather be with you. Don't worry though, the time will fly by and then it'll just be you and me. I'm sure Robin would like having a little brother and sister."

Sansa's head snapped up, one of her conditions had been that Lysa never went _anywhere_ near Tristan or Poppy and as far as she was concerned that went for her cousin Robin as well. Petyr was quick to spot her fears though and pulled her into his lap where he kissed her neck, 'never going to happen, Sweetling' he mouthed and her nerves calmed down. Petyr took another swig of Bourbon and reached for his cigarettes but couldn't quite reach what with Sansa in his lap and the bottle rested against his side. The redhead rolled her eyes and stretched to grab them and the golden zippo for him, she lit it easily, the harsh taste horrid in her mouth. Petyr flashed her a smile as he took it from her and filled his lungs with much needed smoke, they both knew it wasn't a good habit but somehow he made it look elegant like in movies of old; her husband had always had an old world charm similar to that of Maximilian Schell or Frank Sinatra.

Petyr chuckled. "Ooh, would you now. I should be so lucky." Another much needed swig. " Perhaps I'll avoid the wife for a few days, Alayne can survive without me."

"Can't."

The word slipped out before Sansa even knew she'd spoken, Petyr's green eyes snapped down to his lady love but there wasn't any anger there.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. So, am I to assume that Royce is causing further problems with you being in charge?"

Sansa could hear Lysa suddenly get louder and more frantic then and Petyr held the phone away from his ear slightly while she ranted. Baelish breathed out a line of smoke and crashed his lips to Sansa's for a heated kiss.

"That'll keep her busy for a while, Sweetling."

He whispered against her skin as he set the half empty bottle down on the night stand. Gods, how he longed to play with his darling wife; the thought of making her scream out for him so Lysa heard it almost had him growling but Petyr managed to get himself under control.

Sansa delighted as her husband pressed open-mouthed kisses to her neck and down over her clavicle until he found the crevice of her breasts; Sansa mewed. The redhead's hands clawed up his body as she straddled him and pressed her chest against his naked one.

"Yes, Lysa darling, of course I'm here." He said, Sansa mourned the loss of his lips. "Mmm, no, no, it's alright, you go and see to young Robin."

Finally, _finally,_ he hung up and dropped the phone to the bed sheets, in an instant Petyr had Sansa pressed down against the mattress; feet kicked the pillows out the way. Smoke slowly drifted from the cigarette that hung from Petyr's fingers as he kissed her.

"Was there any point to that conversation, Master?"

"Oh, Sweetling, you've got no need to be scared." She only called him Master now when they were having sex or she was scared, in this case it seemed Lysa had gotten to her. "Never. I love you. And no, not a point in sight. Basically she wanted me to fuck her and play Daddy to Robin, but no. Why would I give up my strong and perfect wife, my boy and what I'm sure is the most manipulative little girl on the planet for that world of nightmares wrapped up in a way too tight dress?"

"I love you too." She breathed.

Sansa remembered the first time she'd laid eyes on him, she'd been covered in grime and filth, bloody and bruised, Sansa had been little more than a husk but Petyr had still looked at her as though she were a person. He'd cut her loose of that horrid collar and taken her home, he'd bathed and clothed her, fed and cared for her when he hadn't had to. Petyr had taught her to read and write, taught her to be a person again, he'd given her Tristan and Poppy, he'd given Sansa her name back. He'd put an end to Joffrey and Ramsay... he'd saved her; breathed fresh life into her. Not many knew it but Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish was a good man. He loved Sansa for who she was, he was sensitive to her needs, he spent time with her, he was proud of her accomplishments, he encouraged her. Petyr didn't see her as weak or helpless, that wasn't why he'd pull chairs out for her or hold doors, he did it because he wanted her to know she was worth something to him. He was hard as nails when he had to be, Petyr could run and plot at the same time but with Sansa he was tender and loving. He was her best friend, her reassurance and her inspiration. There were nights when Sansa had nightmares of her past and crawled under the bed as she always had when scared, and that was how _she_ knew he was a good man – others didn't need to know – Sansa knew because Petyr wouldn't ever pull her out or ignore her, she knew because he'd toss a pillow down and sleep beside her without saying a word.

Lysa Arryn could think whatever she wanted, Sansa knew Petyr loved her and only her. Sansa had gone through the worst of horrors and come out of it with the best.


	10. Station Antics

**REMAINS OF CERSEI LANNISTER DISCOVERED**

 _Several weeks ago a mass grave site was discovered in Dwellers Hollow, a large area within the forest that surrounds King's Landing. The body count continues to rise at an astonishing rate, however, some identities have started to be learned. Cersei Lannsiter being one of them. She vanished from the Peace Vale Centre, a Dornish treatment facility for mental health in Sunspear, without a trace a little over three years ago. Local law enforcement found no trace of the former Lion and Stag Vice President and regrettably her missing persons case was never solved. Now though it appears her story was far more tragic and resulted in execution that -_

Petyr sighed as he read his morning paper, they'd all known it wouldn't be long until they figured out Cersei had been found and his contacts had informed him not to long ago that DI Heyerdahl was on the warpath regarding it. Most of the people Petyr had buried in Dwellers Hollow were unimportant in the eyes of most people, sex workers, homeless kids, tweaked out twinkies, but Cersei provided the press with the perfect opportunity for a field day. In their eyes she was the big ticket item.

He knew he was going to have to put up with the media parading his clean ups all over the front page but he'd not expected it to be so irritating. Newspapers always got things wrong but Petyr suspected the police had been feeding them snippets of information in an attempt to goad the perpetrator into revealing himself to correct them; Petyr Baelish wasn't that stupid. He'd put up with so much, was so patient and this fiasco wouldn't be any different.

Petyr picked up his coffee cup and took a much needed sip, he couldn't ever really keep his eyes open until his morning coffee; dark and sweet. Suddenly he glanced up and realised he was still stood in front of Gwendolyn's desk with her gazing up at him rather than at home in peace.

"Sir?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, such a tragedy." He breathed as he folded the paper under his arm and continued to sip his coffee. "At least Jaime and her children will now find some closure."

 _That's right, Petyr, make good little Gwendolyn think you give a shit._ Gwendolyn was smarter than most people he'd given her credit for but that didn't mean she was on Petyr's level, he could manipulate her whenever he wanted, even in his half-asleep state. She grinned at him as she grabbed a few files and offered them up.

"These need your signature, Sir, and Mister Brune needs to push your meeting with him to be pushed to three instead of noon."

Petyr huffed unsurprised. "Gwendolyn, please inform my CTO that he doesn't make the rules and that if he's not in that conference room by twelve on the dot I'm going to hand him his balls." Said Petyr sweetly; a tone his assistant knew was dangerous.

"In the conference room by noon or end up ball-less. Got it. Anything else I can do for you, Sir?"

Petyr shook his head as he finished his coffee. "No, that will be all, thank you. After seeing this-" he loosely gestured to the newspaper "- I have a phone call to make."

With that he wandered off into his office and Gwendolyn rested her head on her fist. That man was a riddle inside and enigma wrapped up in an Armani suit, she'd seen him in a Kiton K-50 the previous week and nearly dropped her jaw. Most at Lion and Stag had bespoke suits but Petyr Baelish always pushed the boat out, always looked so put together and sophisticated. All the money he spent on suits and yet he never appeared ostentatious. Damn, if Alayne hadn't managed to snap him up Gwendolyn would have... maybe... if she'd ever gotten the courage to... and wasn't married with a son.

Meanwhile Petyr fell down into the white leather Barcelona chair by the wall of windows and stared down at the headline again.

 **REMAINS OF CERSEI LANNISTER DISCOVERED**

He hoped Sansa hadn't seen the paper yet, then again it was twenty to nine, she'd be feeding Tristan and Poppy. Littlefinger had hoped his darling Sansa wouldn't ever hear the name Cersei Lannister again but with his dump site being found thanks to a cocksucker Petyr hadn't managed to track down, his girl would have to survive the constant splash of Cersei's name. The blonde lioness had caused Sansa so much pain and suffering but Petyr remembered, he remembered after Cersei had murdered the Stark's and burnt their home to the ground.

 _x_

 _The sun had just started to rise as Petyr Baelish stepped out of his car and made his way up the gravel driveway to what remained of the Stark house. Barely a third of the building remained standing, nothing but rubble and dust remained where once their had been a loving home. His shoes became smudged with ash as he walked through the debris but he cared not... Catelyn was gone._

 _On the outside he looked calm and collected but on the inside he couldn't breath, could hardly think. Catelyn was gone. Smoke still rose from burnt timbers and ash lingered in the air intent on choking him._

" _I'm sorry, Cat. I wasn't fast enough." He told the rubble. "Tyrion answered the goddamn phone and listened but you just had to hang up on me."_

 _Ned hadn't answered his cellphone despite the dozen or so calls Petyr had made while at the airport with Tyrion which had forced him to call Cat, 'send the kids to Lysa or Edmure' he'd wanted to say, frankly Edmure would have been better since Riverrun was further away. Catelyn hadn't listened though, something about Petyr always getting people into trouble. Three hours later every single Stark was dead._

 _Petyr brushed bits of broken brick out the way with his foot and soot rose up in a tiny cloud. The man with ash at his temples assumed he was somewhere in what had once been the living room, broken glass from destroyed pictures littered the ground as did bits of singed fabric that had once been pillows. Cat had taken such pride in her home and now Petyr stood in its tattered remains._

 _Cersei had sent him to make sure her idiot goons hadn't left evidence lingering about and as far as the cleaner could tell they'd not. They had, however, left the burnt remains of the Stark family massacred and dumped in the foyer. Petyr prided himself on never been squeamish or easily skittish but seeing them there on their stomachs and backs had given him pause. Pools of burnt blood and the stench of flesh, the police had taken the bodies but not the smell. Petyr Baelish was many things but he'd never have killed a child and especially not how Cersei had ordered. Rickon had only been three, hardly out of infancy._

 _Suddenly Petyr kicked something and it skidded across the burnt foundation where it rattled against the shattered glass and dusty wooden splinters. Green orbs flashed down to see something that had once been white but now was signed and dusted in black. Carefully he crouched down in his Gucci suit to retrieve what he now saw was a photo album, Petyr blew some of the mess off the cover then flipped the pages open. Most of it was crispy looking pictures of Cat, Lysa and Edmure as kinds or her and Ned but every now and again he saw his own face amongst the memories. The middle though was where he found the kids, Cat had always forced Petyr into a picture of him holding the newest of her children. Sansa had always been his favourite, she'd been such a quiet and well behaved baby, a total one-eighty from the horror also known as Arya._

 _x_

Petyr couldn't sit there remembering like a mourning schoolgirl, he had things to do. Baelish took a deep breath and let his head tilt back as he dumped the paper on the glass table. From his pocket came his cellphone and after a second or two to punch in numbers he pressed it to his ear and let it ring.

"Don't 'Morning Petyr' me. Why in Seven Hells am I reading about Cersei fucking Lannister being found in a bloody newspaper rather than being told by you? You're my informant and yet you haven't been very informative." There was bickering on the other the end of the line and the sound of a soda can popping open. "That doesn't change anything, I need to know these things so as I can plan for any consequences."

A knock on the door sounded and green eyes glanced over as Gwendolyn cautiously leaned in through the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but she's starting to make a scene and-"

Petyr's assistant was cut off abruptly then when Lysa barged past her and into his office. Baelish's eye twitched.

"Petyr, I need to speak to you, darling."

"Yeah, it's Lysa." He told the voice on the phone. "And yes, I think I need all the luck I can get."

~X~

Oren Heyerdahl burst with rage, his eye twitched with irritation. How the discovery of Cersei Lannister's body had gotten leaked to the press he had no idea, everyone knew he'd rip their damn heads off if they even thought about it. _Has to be someone from Forensics, they're all a bunch of penny-pinching assholes._ Oren growled to himself as he paced around Larroquette's desk like a tiger stalking its prey with a deep frown in his aged face. Sebastian was about two seconds from smashing his head against his desk; Christ he needed a drink.

"I knew those cockroaches would fuck this case up!"

Frankly Sebastian felt like he was being circled by sharks. He did his best not to roll his eyes and sigh. The rest of the office had backed off from Heyerdahl fearing for their lives and rightly so; when he was like this the man was erratic and that was a dangerous thing.

"It's unfortunate yes, Heyerdahl, but it would have happened sooner or later." Larroquette tried to explain. "This is Cersei Lannister we're talking about, her death is the biggest news King's Landing has had since the whole Lion and Stag thing."

"Have you noticed that when a fuck ton of deaths happen it's always around that fucking company?!" Oren growled as he continued to pace. "Bet it was Voltaire. That fucker knows everything about the Dwellers Hollow sight."

Sebastian's first reaction was to launch at the asshole and pound his face into the nearest filing cabinet – no one threatened his boyfriend, because that was what it was, a threat. He controlled himself, knew full well that Heyerdahl would get himself killed soon enough. The dark-haired man took a calming breath.

"Jefferson wouldn't ever put more stress on this investigative and he certainly wouldn't leak anything to the press. He's a good medical examiner-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You're cock warmer can't do any wrong." Oren grumbled dismissively.

Sebastian's hands clenched into fists for a moment before he forced himself to relax and leant back in his desk chair.

"If you like I'll have an internal investigation launched into tracking down who it was-"

Oren cut Larroquette off for the second time. "Balls to that. It'll just take up yet more fucking manpower we don't bloody have. You want to do something goddamn useful? Figure out how Cersei Lannister got back into King's Landing without any asshole noticing."

With that the DI stormed off into his office and slammed the door so hard that the sound echoed in Larroquette's ears. It was then that people started to reappear in the station.

"Bloody cowards." The Detective Sergeant muttered to himself.

He was very good at his job, should have been promoted years ago but, of course, Heyerdahl had dealt with that. He had basically solved their last three cases and each time Heyerdahl had soaked up all the fucking glory then chucked Larroquette back into the pit of homophobic hatred. He'd have raised it with the board, you know, if that gave a shit.

With a sigh Sebastian reached into his pocket and took out his phone then straightened his waistcoat as he dialled. He very quickly came to the conclusion that Jefferson must have been finishing up an autopsy because it was the only reason it ever took him so long to answer the phone.

"Yeah, what's up Sebby?" Ooh, Jefferson was feeling particularly brave it seemed; he was the only man who could get away with calling him that. "You alright? It's ten in the morning, bit early for lunch."

Sebastian sighed. "You might want to watch out, Heyerdahl is on the warpath." Jefferson groaned. "He's blaming forensics and you for the press leak."

"Fuck. Why is that asshole always blaming me for shit?"

Sebastian breathed out a quiet laugh. "You really want me to answer that?"

He reached into his desk then and pulled out a bag of peanut M&Ms that decided to be a bit of a hassle to open.

"Put the damn candy down, Seb. You eat way too much off it and I don't want you getting fat. That ass of yours is perfect, don't go making me have to look for a new man."

"Baby boy, as long as I've got a mouth you're not going anywhere and you know it."

There was a pause then where Seb finally gotten into the bag and shoved his hand in.

"I can hear you." Jefferson teased; it was amazing at how quickly a small conversation with the medical examiner could drain away all his irritations. "I take it this is going to be a 'Jefferson, baby, I need to take you to lunch because if I don't get out of this office soon Heyerdahl is a dead man' day."

"Gods, yes." Seb said as he tossed some of the candy into his mouth.

"Dude, stop with the candy!"

"Can't, I have a problem." The DS chuckled lightly.

"And don't I know it. You're only having salad at lunch." There was an almighty crash then and a string of obscene language followed by the sound of Jefferson dropping down into a chair. "Sorry, my new forensic photographer is a twat. That's the third tray she's knocked over today."

Sebastian looked down to his watch. "It's literally ten-twenty-three."

"Yeah, wish me luck because I'm going to need it."

Sebastian shrugged. "If you kill her you know which man to call."

Jefferson just laughed at that. "Look, I've got a boat load of autopsies to do today and I can't take my eyes off the new girl so I need to love you and leave you."

"See you later. Usual place?"

"Uh-huh, sounds good. See you later." A momentary pause, hardly there. "And put the fucking candy down."

Jefferson hung up then and Sebastian tucked his phone back into his pocket and let his head fall down onto his desk with a sigh. Why did shit have to be so complicated?

"Larroquette! Shouldn't you be doing something fucking productive?!" Heyerdahl yelled as he stormed back out of his office this time with his coat on. "Practice your deep-throating later."

He was going to kill him. Yeah, Sebastian was going to kill him or he was going to fucking enjoy watching it.


	11. A Little Chat

Since Jaime Lannister was in Dorne with his niece and nephew – or his children as they truly were – and Tywin Lannister was long dead the cops found their way to Petyr Baelish on a rainy Friday morning at his home. Oren Heyerdahl and Sebastian Larroquette marched up to the front door and knocked so loud they almost woke the dead.

Petyr wasn't pleased when he opened the door to find the men stood there; one angry and the other somewhat more apologetic. He'd been ready to take whoever was at the door's head off, his darling girl was terrified of such loud and sudden noises, but upon seeing the DI and DS he slowed his roll.

"May I help you?" Petyr asked in that calm and assured tone.

"DI Heyerdahl." A badge was flashed in his face so quickly Petyr could hardly see it. "This is DS Larroquette. Can we come in and speak to you about Cersei Lannister." It wasn't a question.

Well this was going to be fun. Petyr stepped aside and gestured for the two men to enter which they did. Baelish led them into the living room where Sansa was just opening the French doors for the kids to run outside and play with Lady. Sansa's eyes went wide but her husband was quick to slip an arm around her waist while Heyerdahl took a seat leaving Larroquette stood behind the couch.

"These are some detectives, Sweetling. They want to ask us some questions."

He could feel how tense his wife was but she hid it well. Petyr sat down in his favoured armchair and moved Sansa to sit on the arm so she was close.

"We thought it may be better to speak to you away from the office, Mister and Missus Baelish." Said Sebastian with a gentle smile.

"Ask away." Replied Baelish. "Alayne and I are happy to help as best we can."

"How long did you work for the Lannisters?" Asked Heyerdahl; clearly he didn't trust Petyr and that was the smartest thing he could have done.

"Since right out of university. I began as little more than a glorified accountant and soon I was promoted to CFO."

"And now you're Lion and Stag's CEO." Added Heyerdahl. "Done well for yourself off the deaths of Lannisters, ain't ya, Baelish?"

"No one died for me to become CFO and Jaime Lannister _asked_ me to take over for him as CEO. Now, do you have anymore questions or are you just going to continue to insinuate?"

"We apologise, Mister Baelish." There went Sebastian calming the situation again; it was a regular occurrence for the Detective Sergeant. "When was the last time you saw Cersei Lannister?"

"So it is here." Sansa breathed out quietly.

"Yes, Sweetheart, the papers are right."

Petyr didn't miss the way Oren's dark eyes raked over his young wife; he'd killed men for less.

"Last time I saw her was the day she was removed as Vice President of my company. Jaime had decided she'd grown too... erratic and needed help. As you can imagine Cersei wasn't pleased about her brother's choice but she wasn't getting a choice. A few days later she was moved to Sunspear but the day of her removal from Lion and Stag was the last I saw of her."

"Were you aware she hated you for becoming CEO?" He looked to Sansa. "And you for taking her job, Missus Baelish?" Heyerdahl's voice was low.

"We were not, however, I am not surprised. Cersei was always quick to hate." Answered Petyr as though completely unaffected by the whole situation.

Heyerdahl shuffled forwards in his seat on the couch. "Are you aware of anyone who'd want to cause Cersei harm?"

Petyr smirked ever so slightly. "That will probably be a very long list, Detective Inspector, she preferred to make enemies than friends." He tapped his heart with the hand not on Sansa's hip. "There was a wall there."

"I only met her a few times but she never seemed particularly friendly."

For a moment Petyr was surprised at his darling girl, he'd expected her to just look pretty unless spoken to directly but he should have learnt a long time ago not to underestimate the redhead. Everything she'd said was true, Sansa had only met Cersei a handful of times when she'd given her to Joffrey. The man with ash at his temples gave a little squeeze to his wife's hip.

"She didn't make any attempt to contact you at all?"

"No, Detective Inspector, she didn't. I don't see why she'd have any reason to either. If she wanted Jaime to take back the company she couldn't have forced him into that, Lion and Stag is mine contractually. Although it sounds as though you're suggesting she might have threatened me... which would give me motive if any of it were true."

"We are simply attempting to assess all the facts, Mister Baelish." Heyerdahl was quick to say but they could all see the black man had some sort of theory he waned to stick.

Suddenly Oren's dark eyes flashed to Petyr's white shirt collar before going back to his calm and collected face.

"How did you get that blood on your shirt?"

Sansa tensed and Petyr knew he need to get his wife out of the room before her confidence fully left her.

"Sansa, Sweetling, why don't you go check on Tristan and Poppy." He suggested calmly. "Don't want them wandering down to the cliff."

The redhead nodded, she was always stronger when her children and Lady were around. Sansa rose to her feet and excused herself in favour of heading outside to freedom.

"Answer my question, Mister Baelish."

"Of course." Petyr crossed his legs. "I cut myself shaving this morning, it must have bled through to my shirt. Shame really, now I have to change. Thank you for pointing it out."

It was only a tiny amount of blood and there wasn't any reason to not believe him. Heyerdahl was a suspicious man by nature. It was all a lie though, Petyr had been in the basement with Fredek Sugrue; the asshole who'd decided to use his dumpsite.

"How long have you and Alayne Stone be married?" Oren asked seemingly from nowhere.

Petyr raised an eyebrow. "Just under three years."

"Just the two kids?"

"For the moment yes." Truthfully, Petyr hadn't thought about having any more and Sansa hadn't expressed interest in it. "Tristan and Poppy. Those two are practically joined at the hip."

"How did you and Alayne meet?" Questioned the black man

" I fail to see how that is relevant."

Oh he did, Petyr knew what Heyerdahl was trying to get at but he wouldn't play the policeman's game. Green eyes flashed up to Sebastian a moment to find the man still looking apologetic.

"Answer the question, please."

Petyr sighed internally. "It was quite a surprise to meet her." Lie using the truth, that was what Petyr did. "It was dark and I was in a hurry. I didn't even see her at first and then all of a sudden she was there with those beautiful blue eyes of hers and I knew there and then she'd be my wife."

"How romantic." Oren seemed disgusted not that Petyr cared.

"I don't see how I can be of any more help to you, I'm afraid. I haven't seen Cersei since before her brother had her moved to Dorne. I will of course make myself and my company available to you should you need anything else."

Petyr rose to his feet, a clear indication he wanted the police out of his house and Sebastian nodded his thanks as Heyerdahl stood.

"That is most helpful, thank you, Mister Baelish." Sebastian flashed Petyr a smile that was easily returned.

"Don't leave King's Landing, Mister Baelish."

"I hadn't planned on it, Detective Inspector." Petyr shot back

The two officers left then after a few more quick questions and Petyr shot upstairs to change his shirt and looked at his phone; there was a text there he'd not seen from almost twenty minutes previous. _Heyerdahl is on his way to question you._ Ahh, so he was forewarned.

When he made it back downstairs Littlefinger went straight to outside to his wife who sat on the steps and settled beside her. Sansa instantly snuggled into him while they watched the children play with Lady.

"Is that horrid man gone?" She asked quietly.

"Yes, my darling Sansa, all gone. He's got his own theory and he's going to try and make everything fit it so we have to make sure the jigsaw only shows the image we want."

"I know." Sansa paused then for a second or two. "What if he finds out it was you?"

"He won't."

"But if he does-"

"He won't." Petyr assured. "I retrieved the pieces of the murder weapon and we both know there won't be any evidence from the autopsy. They have nothing and will have nothing. Don't worry your pretty little head, Sweetling."

Sansa nodded. "You're right. How about I make us that picnic I was talking about for Tris and Poppy, they'd enjoy it."

Petyr pressed a kiss to her temple. "Whatever you want, my love. Let me finish in the basement and I'll join you down by the secluded beach."

"Okay. I love you, Petyr."

"I love you too, my sweet Sansa."

While the redhead went to the kitchen Petyr headed down into the basement where he found Fredek Sugrue still tied to a chair with ductape over his mouth; body limp and lifeless. Frankly Petyr wasn't overly impressed with the calibre of the KLPD, it had taken Petyr less than a week to figure out which asshole had compromised his dumpsite with pathetic murders and even less to track said asshole down. This fledgling serial killer had endangered Baelish's family... so he had to die; not before telling Petyr everything he wanted to know of course.

Turned out Sugrue had stumbled across Dwellers Hollow some months before he'd started killing and had realised how perfect a dumpsite it would make. Petyr had favoured Dwellers Hollow for decades and now it was gone, yes, he often fed his clean ups to the sharks of King's Landing's waters but Dwellers Hollow was almost sentimental to him; his very first clean up had been in one of those graves. Still, Baelish couldn't dwell on it all. He had the information he needed from Fredek, he'd dealt with this dumbass cops and now he had a body to clean up. The sharks were getting plump and his dumpside was gone so somewhere new would have to be decided and for that it was best for the fledgling murderer to be in tiny pieces no one would ever suspect.

Petyr made quick work of rigging a pulley system and got Sugrue suspended upside down in no time at all. In one smooth motion Littlefinger slit the dead man's throat and let the crimson flood from his body up his face and drip down into the metal bucket that had seem many uses. It would take a while but soon all the blood would leave Fredek's corpse and Petyr would toss him in the freezer; he'd be easier to cut up when frozen and Petyr had so been looking for an excuse to use his new high-powered pressure washer.

Hours went by and then hours more and the man with ash at his temples finally got Fredek Sugrue into small enough pieces which he then stacked into a neat pile; Petyr did like to keep the basement tidy. He'd just tipped the blood away and poured a health amount of ammonia down with it when he heard the basement door open and the sound of gentle footsteps made their way down the stairs. Petyr glanced up to see his darling Sansa as he wiped off little spots of blood from his hands with a cloth. There was a gentle smile on her lips and he couldn't help but take her into his arms for a kiss.

"Are you alright, my Sweetling?"

Sansa nodded. "Yeah, the kids are wondering where you are so I was hoping you were almost done."

Her stunning blue orbs flashed to the pile of slowly de-frosting body parts stacked up on her husband's work bench.

"All finished now, Sansa, just need to store them until I think of where to bury the bastard."

Sansa thought a moment. "What about the island? It's secluded, people rarely go out there."

Petyr raised an eyebrow and kissed the redhead again. "You see this is why I love you."

It was a perfect idea, the island didn't even have a name and like Sansa had said people rarely went out there.

"We can take Poppy and Tristan, make an evening of it."

Petyr smiled. Only his darling Sansa would come up with something like that. His girl had been so broken when he'd first stumbled across her but now, now she was as dark and as cunning as he was, now she was a player in the game, now she was his queen.

"Best go get the children ready then, my love. I'll bag Fredek here up and get the boat ready."

She kissed him. "Wonderful. I'll box dinner up as well."

Petyr loved his redhead, she was the strongest of them and he could only hope that Tristan and Poppy were the same.


	12. An Evening With Lysa Arryn

A little over a month went by with very little happening in regards to Heyerdahl's case. The weather warmed up to an unseasonably high temperature. Rich dickheads had been complaining about a new wind turbine farm and some labourers in Essos had gone on strike but Oren neither cared nor noticed any of those things. What he did care about was Petyr fucking Baelish and his pretty little redhead. The sly CEO had been much too calm for the DI's liking. There was something off about Baelish and he'd find out exactly what it was even if it was the last thing he did.

Heyerdahl glared at the bored he'd had Sebastian set up several weeks prior and the DI had then littered it with several of his own little scrawled notes as he came up with questions, theories and aggravating uncertainties.

The hour was late and almost everyone had gone home for the night; Larroquette would have liked to have gone home for the night, he'd had to tell Jefferson to go alone to drinks with their friends because of Heyerdahl.

Sebastian rubbed at his temples. "Sir, do you think we should maybe … investigate other avenues for suspects?" He asked from his desk.

The gruff DI glared at his Detective Sergeant and Sebastian mentally rolled his eyes.

"This is why you'll never go anywhere, fairy cakes! Baelish has something to do with this all and I fucking know it, I'll fucking prove it." He sighed and turned back to the board. "Cersei Lannister is dead and people are going to want answers to that." The only noise other than Heyerdahl's own voice was the faint sound of Seb tapping a button on his phone. "This is the mystery of the century and whoever solves it is going to get one hell of a fucking promotion. Don't get me wrong Cersei Lannister deserved to die, fucking bitch. I'm surprised someone didn't kill her sooner."

With that Heyerdahl broke into a long and really rather pointless rant about rich people and those born into wealth. Frankly Sebastian wanted to ask if there was _any_ large body of people Heyerdahl wasn't worried about but he was smart enough to stay silent.

They had no evidence connecting Petyr Baelish to the deaths at Dwellers Hollow and the minor connection to Cersei Lannister was nothing but circumstantial.

~X~

The hour was somewhere between the witching hour and dawn when Petyr and his beloved wife returned home. Clouds covered over the silvery moon leaving little to no light anywhere and the warm breeze had turned cool; something that had caused Sansa to snuggle against Petyr for warmth as they made their way inside the house.

Quickly the couple found Olyvar face down on the couch, mouth open as he snored surprisingly daintily. The pair just stared at the blonde a brief time before Sansa got bored and wandered off upstairs to check on Tristan and little Poppy, the both of which would undoubtedly be guarded by the ever loyal Lady. Petyr stood a few more seconds before Olyvar before he flicked on the side table lamp and flicked the blonde's nose. Oly jolted awake.

Neither Petyr nor Sansa were precisely sure when Olyvar of all people had become their go-to babysitter but he was cheep, good with kids, and knew that if Tristan or Poppy so much as scraped their knees while under his supervision Petyr would cut him up – still living – with a rusty knife and feed whatever was left to Lady; that was if Lady didn't just maul him to death on the spot. It made for a diligent babysitter.

The blonde wiped a hand over his face as he forced himself awake; slowly his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He yawned deeply.

"What time is it?" His voice was a little hoarse with disuse.

"Time you got out of my house." Said Petyr motionlessly as he glanced down to his watch. "It's ten past one."

Oly pushed himself to his feet and stretched. "Is it the usual?"

Baelish raised an eyebrow. "Problem with that?"

Petyr didn't really care if it was or not, they had an agreement and it was too fucking late for Petyr to fain giving a shit about changing it. _It's gone midnight, does that mean it's too early to care rather than too late?_

"Nope, just asking. In my pay cheque is fine. You know I love your kids, Especially Poppy. She's basically you if you'd been a girl."

"Well, as riveting as this conversation is it's late and my wife is upstairs in a satin dress."

Olyvar nodded. "See you when the club opens."

Petyr didn't escort Olyvar to the door just tidied up a few of Poppy's toys that had been scattered about the living room and listened for the sound of the front door closing behind the blonde. He flicked off the lamp and locked up for the night then made his way upstairs intent on finding his beautiful, young wife and fucking her brains out on the floor. However, when he stepped into Tristan's room he found his boy asleep cuddled up to Copper, his daughter at his side and Sansa passed out – still in her red satin dress – with an arm thrown over the pair of them while Lady snored at the foot of the bed.

"Well, there goes my fuck her brains out plan." He muttered to himself. "Thwarted by my own children, lovely."

With a sigh Petyr shed his suit jacket and his waistcoat – an accessory he was favouring as of late – and untucked his shirt before he lay down on the small bed. Not the night he'd envisioned but it wasn't a bad night. Since Dwellers Hollow had been discovered and he'd set his plan to acquire Vale Limited in motion Baelish hadn't spent nearly enough time with his family. He'd spent so long gaining power, wealth and a reputation for himself but now he did it for his family. Petyr had power, now was the time to build his legacy.

~X~

Several more weeks rolled by and Lion and Stag got a handle on the security breach. Everything was re-enforced and Petyr had his people made damn sure no one would be getting near his systems again. That was one problem solved but his Lysa Arryn issue was still well and truly up and kicking. Life would have been so much simpler if he could have just killed her. The woman had always been a thorn in his side, right from childhood's hour, but he just couldn't get rid of her. When he'd married Sansa she'd thrown a fit, gone totally off the rails further into alcohol and drugs than he'd ever seen before. It had taken every shred of Petyr's sanity not to just let her drop dead; not if he wanted Vale Limited and fuck yes he did.

While Sansa stayed at home with the kids and Lady, Petyr had taken Lysa to dinner to wine and dine her. His beloved redhead wasn't happy about it all but she wanted the company just as much as Petyr did. When Petyr had first found Sansa he'd promised her that he'd kill and destroy everyone who had a hand in her family's death and he had; Lysa was all that remained. She was the last domino standing and Petyr would be sure to topple her.

Months Baelish had been working to get somewhere with Lysa and now that he'd convinced her they were _in love_ he actually stood a chance of taking Vale Limited and the financial threat that came with it. That and once he had the company he could fire Yohn Royce; Littlefinger hadn't ever liked that oaf.

The suit clad man and Lysa clinked their glasses together as they waited for their meals to arrive, the sound of gentle hubbub lingered around them as other people enjoyed their conversations but Lysa seemed numb to everything but Petyr; maybe it was the wine. Petyr took a large gulp of rich red, he needed it if he was going to keep his act up.

The aged redhead couldn't stop grinning like and idiot and Petyr forced himself to keep a pleasant smile on his sharp features. He longed for it to be his sweet Sansa across from him rather than her aunt but no.

"I have so been looking forwards to this evening, Petyr." She said loudly.

"Likewise, darling, likewise. So relaxing, isn't it?"

Lysa took another swallow of her wine and Petyr's bullshit. "Oh yes! I hate that you are forced to stay with that little slut-"

She carried on talking but Petyr had zone out as red flashed through his mind. His initial instinct was to smash the wine bottle and stab the drunken bitch to death until there was nothing but a bloody pulp left – no one insulted his Sweetling! He couldn't though, so Petyr kept his face calm and painted in agreement while his inner plotter forced him to stick to the plan.

"Hmm, she's good at her job and far smarter than most think she is but-"

Lysa cut him off. "She's a self-centred, self-absorbed little whore who doesn't want you to be happy."

Petyr internally raised an eyebrow. _Sure, let's go with that._ He nodded and sipped at his wine.

"Yes, unfortunately."

"Some people just can't see what's right in front of them." She told him assuredly with a toothy grin. "Or they don't want to."

Only by the grace of God did he not erupt into laughter. Either Lysa Arryn was the most oblivious woman to ever live or she was the most sarcastic. _Undoubtedly the former,_ muttered Baelish's mind in a rather unimpressed tone.

The waiter arrived with their meals then and slowly Petyr and Lysa settled into eating while the drunken redhead regaled him with tales of her Sweet Robin and how stupid her staff were. Petyr chewed and listened attentively, stored everything away for a later date. He'd learnt long ago that all information, no matter how trivial, could be useful.

She seemed to have this perfect little fantasy about the pair of them living happily ever after like some shit rom-com, just fucking one another's brains out until they died of old age or sex induced heart attacks. Frankly Baelish wasn't a big fan, wasn't even a small fan, of that idea. It needed one little edit in his mind to even be considered. Swapping Lysa out for his beloved Sansa took the fantasy from a living nightmare to utter perfection. It made him smile and the aged redhead took to thinking he was enjoying her plans for their future together.

Eventually though he managed to turn the conversation back to business; not that any of this farce wasn't business to Petyr.

"Are you sure Robin will be able to take over?" Lysa questioned after downing what was left of her wine and gesturing for Petyr to refill it.

"Of course. Obviously the company needs to be overseen by someone as we've previously discussed but Jon owned fifty-one percent of Vale Limited and now Robin does. The board can't shove him out."

She flashes him a smile; over the top and frankly ugly. "I've never really understood all this technical talk."

That was the first truthful thing she'd said all night.

Petyr flashed her a reassuring look then slid his hand across the table to hold hers comfortingly; an act Lysa delighted in.

"Well, that's why you have me."

"I have you for some other reasons too, you perfect man."

Lysa chucked seductively, or at least she thought it was seductively; either way Petyr wasn't impressed.

"Tease." He grinned. "But I really suggest naming a second for who cares for the company in trust for Robin, Gods forbid something happens to you."

Petyr filled his voice with such care and concern to ply Lysa to his will, but, of course, all of it was lies; he'd not have cared if she jumped off a cliff as long as he had operational control of Vale Limited.

At the table behind Lysa sat a young man and woman who'd caught his attention while he spun his tale at the redhead. The man seemed nervous while the woman clearly wasn't happy; angry even. Normally such a thing wouldn't have mattered to Littlefinger but he knew the man, Anaximander Wells. He was always loitering around in The Mockingbird following after his whores, frankly the man had a serious addiction and it may have been better if his female companion – fiancée if the ring was anything to go by – found out before she trapped herself.

Petyr turned his attention back to Lysa and getting what he wanted.

"If something were to happen then Royce as the CFO would care for the company until Robin comes of age, during which time the board would control the entirety of the company. Knowing Royce he'll talk Robin into being silent."

Lysa raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

 _Good, you picked up on that._ "It means that though owning the majority of the company Robin wouldn't have any say or control in the day to day running of Vale Limited. A board chairman – undoubtedly Royce – would be chosen instead."

The half drunk redhead scowled. "So Royce Can very easily take my company from Robin?"

Baelish nodded. "Yes. That's why I suggest naming another person to entrust the company to just in case. Someone outside the company may be best but someone who knows what they're doing. It could be anyone you like, a family member perhaps. Edmure maybe."

Lysa scoffed as she took another mouthful only to speak with her mouth open mid chew. _Yes, very alluring. Why don't you try belching next, Lysa, I might find it irresistible._

"No. Edmure is a bloody idiot and would drive Vale into the ground then set it alight."

Petyr actually agreed with that assessment. Edmure did occasionally try to help but most of the time he just fucked things up like a twat without any real regard to what went on around him. No wonder he'd wound up married to a Frey. Their bridge construction company had once been rather impressive but now no one would touch them for fear of the things toppling over; the last two had bloody collapsed and hadn't that fucked up traffic.

The suit clad man shrugged, he couldn't appear too eager for her to choose him.

"Well, you have plenty of time to choose. Like I say, it's just a precaution, I doubt it'll ever be enacted."

He could practically see the cogs in Lysa's mind turn and clank around. A waiter came by then to ask if all was well with their meals only to be sent off with an 'we're all fine, thank you'. With conversation of Vale Limited's future at a pause the pair stumbled into mindless chit-chat while they finished their meal and dessert. Although most of Lysa's small talk seemed to be bad mouthing his stunning wife.

When they finished Petyr paid and Lysa polished off the wine clearly a little beyond tipsy and the pair made their way out towards Petyr's treasured Aston.

"You vomit in my car and I'll leave your body by the side of the road."

Lysa paused and turned to face him on unsteady heels. "Hmm, you say something?"

"Let me get the door for you."

He quickly opened the passenger door and Lysa slipped in after kissing him sloppily; something he wiped away from his face with the back of his hand as he passed by the back of he car. The night air was cool and Petyr needed the taste of the drunk redhead out of his mouth so he rolled the window down and lit himself a cigarette. Baelish took a deep and indulgent lung full then breathed out happily; the alcoholic taste of Lysa well and truly gone. Lysa hummed as he backed out of the parking lot, she started to run her hand up his thigh.

"I love that smell, it's so you."

"Yeah, Alayne hates it." He said with an underwhelming sigh. "Makes me smoke outside."

That was only true if the children were around which he entirely agreed with.

"Bitch! Tries to control you in your own house. I'll never do that to you, darling." She promised. "When it's _our_ house we'll do as we please. It'll be just you, me and Robin."

Petyr couldn't help but notice she made no mention of Poppy and Tristan. He suspected that his children didn't ever make an appearance in Lysa's little fantasy.

"That whore won't be able to control you anymore." She cupped him then and Baelish did his best not to recoil. "We'll fuck all over the house and get rid of her properly. You'll like that won't you, darling."

The suit clad man breathed out another puff of his smoke and tapped the ash out the open window into the darkness.

"Immensely." He lied.

When she started to open up his belt Petyr's mind slotted into over-drive thinking how best to get out of this horror show. He'd made a promise to his wife and Petyr intended to keep it. Sansa never asked for anything – not ever – and he knew how much it meant to her so he'd not break his promise. Had Petyr never met Sansa, never married her, he'd have done anything to get at Vale Limited.

Just as her hand slipped into his black briefs and squeezed a little _too_ hard, a jolt that made him drop his cigarette out the window, Petyr's cellphone rang. Olyvar, Varys, Tyrion – bloody – Lannister, Petyr didn't care who was on the other end of the line but he thanked them. He thanked them because short of crashing his treasured Aston into a tree Petyr didn't see a way of getting out of Lysa's drunken wants. That was until he saw the caller ID that read a single word; Sweetling.

Lysa groaned and threw herself back in the seat. "Why do you call her that?"

"Makes her feel more cared about when she goes through my phone." He said as though it were real while his brain muttered the truth. _Because she's my darling Sweetling and I love her._ Petyr answered the call. "Yes, Alayne?"

He could practically feel his wife tense over the line. "Em, Tristan is asking for you and I can't get him to drink." Petyr cast a sideways glance at Lysa, it was fairly clear she was doing her best to listen in to the conversation. "Are you coming home?"

For Lysa's benefit Petyr rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can be there in twenty minutes or so."

He hung up then without another word and shoved his cellphone back into his suit jacket as he slowed for a red light.

"Damn bitch, taking away our time together! Fucking whore, can't even take care of her own kids. Terrible mother."

Petyr had killed men for calling his perfect wife a whore. He'd tortured them and made them rue the day they'd been born.

"I know but this is Tristan, wouldn't you go for Robin?"

Lysa grinned, mood suddenly completely in the opposite direction. "You're such a good father, Petyr. You really are."

"We cannot change the past, only the future." He squeezed her hand for added effect.

The half drunk redhead eyed his hand happily. "You're right, Petyr, always are."

A pause and Baelish felt the cogs turn in her head. In one sudden move yanked his wedding ring off the hand she held and tossed it out into the night. Petyr's eyes went wide and he longed to slam on the breaks. How fucking dare she! Lysa laughed almost uncontrollably.

"Don't worry, Petyr, darling, soon you and I will have matching ones."

"She'll notice." He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Littlefinger was furious but he had just enough self-control and years of practice to keep his expression blank.

"You're right, Lysa. Fuck Alayne."

She stretched across the seat and kissed his cheek. "My Petyr."

He took Lysa home thankfully without further incident and then rushed home while sucking down another two cigarettes. Very little panicked Littlefinger but this was his wedding ring! Yes, it was just a piece of platinum but Sansa had put that on his finger at their wedding. It had been a life changing decision for Sansa and she'd made it freely and for herself. Everything he had Petyr had conned and plotted to get but not Sansa. He'd never coerced her into anything he'd just loved her and that little piece of metal, that ring, was the physical representation of that. Petyr was only sentimental about two things; his Aston Martin and his wedding ring.


	13. The Things I Do For Love

When Petyr finally got home the moon shone brightly and he could see the living room light was still on meaning his darling Sansa was still awake. He pulled the Aston into the garage, rolled up the windows and made his way into the house in search of his redhead.

"Sansa, Sweetling." He called out as soon as he was inside.

Petyr pulled off his navy tweed suit jacket – tweed, a rarity for Baelish – and hung it so the fabric covered his ring-less hand as he stepped into the living room. Sat on the floor between the coffee table and the couch was Sansa, she had her attention buried in her art pad. He easily spotted the glass of bourbon on the coffee table, he knew what that was for. Petyr grabbed hold of it and quickly drank it down then placed the glass back on the black coffee table. Green eyes went to his wife.

"Sweetling?"

It was then he saw her shuddered movements, his perfect girl was crying. In an instant Baelish dropped to his knees and wrapped her up in his arms; his grip tight and protective.

"None of that, Sweetling, I'm here, I'm right here." He assured softly.

"I'm sorry." She sobbed quietly.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Petyr pressed a kiss to Sansa's temple. "I love you, you know that right?"

Sansa clung to him as though her husband could slip away into the aether at any moment. She'd not entered full blown tears but Baelish could see her heading there if he wasn't careful.

"But she's got her own company. She's wealthy-"

Petyr cut her off; he wasn't having that. "And insane. She's just obsessed with me. You and I have had this conversation. Sansa, you're mine, my wife and that's the way it'll stay. I promise you that, my love." Her grip on him tightened further. "I love you and once we have Vale Limited I'll be king of a financial empire and you will be by my side as the Queen you were born to be." He smirked. "Do you want to be a Queen?"

" … I want to be your wife."

That made Petyr's smirk turn to a genuine smile of warmth. All his life Petyr had known and associated with people who wanted nothing but power and money – he was one of those people – but Sansa, beautiful, perfect, brave, Sansa just wanted to love and be loved. She was an innocence the world didn't deserve but he shuddered to think what the world would be without her in it. Sansa was like a bold splash of color on an otherwise black canvas; and she was all his.

"You're both, Sweetling. My wife, my Queen, the mother of my son and daughter." He kissed her temple again and fisted the suit jacket tight; if she saw his ring missing she'd break. "Now, how bad is Tristan?"

He wiped away her drying tears until only those big blue eyes remained.

"He's got a cold but he's not as bad as I made out."

"I know. I always know when you're lying, my love." Petyr shifted so he could sit cross-legged and pulled Sansa into his lap. "Has he had anything?"

"Just to help him sleep. I called his Uncle and he said Tris would be okay and what was best to give him. I called you because he wanted you to read him a story, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Oh, no, Sweetling, you're timing was perfect. You have no idea how perfect." With two fingers at her chin the man with ash at his temples tilted his wife's head up and pressed his lips to her own for a loving kiss. "And Tristan needs to sleep."

Carefully Petyr stood up with his beloved redhead in his arms bridal style. She already had her pyjamas on so he took her straight up to their bedroom and lay her down softly amongst the pillows and pulled the sheets over her. Petyr hunched over when to kiss Sansa's forehead then went to hang his suit jacket up.

"You sleep, my love. I'm going to shower."

He could still feel Lysa's hand on his cock and frankly it made him inwardly squirm.

"I love you, Master."

Petyr paused in the bathroom doorway and smiled back at his girl. She'd curled up on her side and snuggled the pillow close. She looked so perfect wrapped up in their bed.

"And I you, my perfect girl."

Once in the bathroom Petyr stripped off his clothes and stepped under the warm shower spray. The hot water rolled down his back and soaked his hair to his forehead, opening up pores and relaxing him. Petyr rested his head against the tiled wall and stared down at his hand and lack of wedding ring though a thin stream of water; he sighed.

Baelish had known Lysa since childhood's hour, had always known what sort of stupidity she would let herself get into. Petyr should have seen something this pathetic and dumb coming. He bet Lysa was at home getting herself off while undoubtedly thinking about him and praising herself over what she'd done. Lysa wanted _Alayne_ to find out his ring was gone.

"Bitch!" He growled.

Petyr pushed out all thoughts of Lysa and instead replaced them with thoughts of his perfect wife and children. Calmed, he ran shampoo through his hair and let everything drain away.

When he'd dried off and slipped on his rarely worn black jeans and a dark t-shirt Petyr headed back into the bedroom where he found Sansa fast asleep. Her red locks hung around her porcelain face like a cloak of fire and Petyr found himself running his hand through it as he stood beside the bed. He pressed a gentle kiss to Sansa's lips.

"Where are you going?" She asked half-asleep without opening her eyes.

"Just to check on Tristan. Go back to sleep, Sweetling."

Sansa didn't take much convincing, slumber had too much of a grip on her. Soon her breaths had evened out and was once again asleep. He watched her a moment and then went to Tristan's room to check on his ill son. The boy was tucked up quietly snoring, his little noise was red but otherwise looked perfectly fine. When he checked on Poppy he found she'd kicked all her covers off but that was really nothing new for his daughter, Petyr just covered her back up then went downstairs. His wife and kids would be safe with Lady there.

With the house in silence and darkness Petyr made his way into the garage and slipped into his treasured Aston Martin. He quietly rolled out into the night and back towards the scene of the crime.

The road was illuminated only by the Aston's headlights and void of everyone at such a late hour; they'd all be at home in bed like Petyr would have rather been. As he neared his target Baelish rolled down the window and treated himself to yet another cigarette, after the day he'd had Petyr fucking deserved it. He wasn't actually a huge smoker in the grand scheme of things. Yes, he smoked but it was usually only one or two a day unless he was busy or stressed then it cranked up to three or four. However, thanks to Lysa, Petyr had gone through half a pack in a single evening. Seriously, what did he have to do, glue his fucking wedding ring on?

"Fucking bitch!" He hissed as he took a corner.

He spotted the stretch of road where Lysa had tossed his wing out his window and slammed on his breaks. Lysa had pissed him off so badly he was abusing his Aston's breaks!

Petyr stared at the grassy area for a time, he could have sent Olyvar to root through the thick grass but this was something he had to do himself. When his cigarette died Petyr stepped out of the car and crushed it underfoot then went to the trunk to find a pair of latex gloves. He'd spent his life cleaning up dead bodies but there he was reduced to searching through pollution coated grass because of a deranged alcoholic. Petyr clicked on his flashlight and started to search. The man with ash at his temples batted his old Converse through the wet grass – and wasn't Petyr glad he'd opted for Converse rather than his Armani dress shoes.

"For fucks sake, it's easier to hide a body."

Hours Petyr searched for that ring and for hours he was unsuccessful. How far had Lysa tossed it? If Petyr didn't find his wedding ring it would take ages for him to get a replacement … and he'd _have_ to tell Sansa. If Sansa found out Lysa had lost his ring there wouldn't be any consoling her and frankly Petyr didn't want a replacement; Petyr wanted the original.

Eventually Baelish had no choice but to drip to his knees and search; a man of his power and reputation. If someone saw this he'd never live it down.

Another forty minutes sailed by and he'd discovered three used needles, six soda bottles and three caps, a mountain of wrappers that people had tossed and a pen, but no wedding ring.

The Lion and Stag CEO sighed. "Do I know anyone with a metal detector?"

Yes, he did, but he'd have had to hide his hand from Sansa for a full day at least. In one last ditch attempt to not go home empty handed the man with ash at his temples took a look through a series of bushes that were fairly set back from the road.

"She couldn't have thrown it this far."

He couldn't spend much longer at this, his flashlight batteries wouldn't last forever and he was heading towards needing another shower. His clothes were damp and if Petyr didn't take the latex gloves off soon and wash his hands he was going to go insane.

However, just when he though the gloves were going to walk away on their own and Petyr was ready to give up he spotted a silvery glint. Petyr grabbed it quickly like a hawk racing down upon its prey and grinned at the familiar sight. This was his wedding ring! Baelish beamed, he didn't usually show his emotions – kept them close to his chest – but this warranted a grin.

Petyr breathed a sigh of relief and raced back to his Aston uncaring of the dark, cold air. He set the ring down on the dash while he took off the latex gloves and tucked them away in his trunk; he'd left behind all the crap he'd found in the grass but Petyr was smart enough to clean up after himself. As soon as he slipped into the Aston Petyr relaxed in his seat. He'd probably aged a good five years from stress alone but Petyr had fixed it like he fixed everything; his wedding ring was back and everything was fine.

Littlefinger rushed home and back into the house where he went straight to the kitchen sink where he cleaned both his hands and the ring then returned it to his finger. It was almost like it had never happened. Petyr didn't _ever_ want to think about that field again, it had been disgusting, unhygienic and frankly one of the most repulsive places he'd ever been; and that was saying something for the man who'd cleaned up Joffrey Baratheon's horrific porn collection.

After a moment of just slow silence Petyr made his way upstairs where he quickly checked on the kids once more, then went into his and Sansa's room. He stripped off and changed into his navy sleep pants while he watched his darling wife as she slept; so peaceful.

Baelish had been just about to slip into bed with Sansa when he heard the sound of feet padding down the hall. He knew every single sound in that house, every door and every floorboard, he certainly knew those little footsteps. A second or two passed and then little Poppy stepped into her parents' bedroom.

"Daddy?" She sniffled up at him.

"Bad dream, little one?" Poppy nodded and Petyr lifted his daughter up into his arms; she buried her face into his chest as she continued to sniffle quietly. "You want to sleep with Daddy and Mommy tonight?"

Poppy nodded and clung to him tightly. Petyr carried the little girl over to the bed where he settled under the covers and lay Poppy between himself and Sansa. He stroked a hand through Poppy's baby-soft red hair as he soothed her.

"You know there's nothing to fear, right, Poppy?" Baelish asked quietly so as not to disturb his sleeping wife.

"Why, Daddy?"

Petyr grinned and pressed a little kiss to his daughter's forehead.

"Monsters don't lurk in the dark little one, they stand proud in the light. But the reason you shouldn't ever be afraid is because Daddy will kill all of the monsters for you. That's Daddy's job, to keep you, your brother and Mommy safe."

"Promise?" She asked as her eyes started to flutter, clearly tired.

Petyr smirked. "Promise, little one. Now go to sleep."

Little Poppy didn't take didn't take much convincing. The sun would rise soon and he'd undoubtedly have a pile of crap to to deal with at Lion and Stag when morning came. Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish was many things, a liar, a conniving mastermind, a powerful CEO, a murderer, a Cleaner, a flesh-peddler and any number of other less than legal things. Yet there was one thing Petyr was above all else, something people never expected him to actually be and that was a devout husband and father.

"Where have you been?" He head Sansa ask just as he'd been about to slip off.

She rolled over and rubbed at her eyes, she pulled Poppy close. Petyr hadn't realised he'd woken his perfect wife up, then again she'd always been able to stay quiet and unnoticeable if wanted. Suddenly Petyr's mind flashed back to when he'd first found her.

 _Green-grey eyes darted down to the dark space under the bed, without blinking Baelish crouched down and poked his head under the bed. A witness, a loose end. Anger filled his body. Under the bed there was little light but he could see the figure. Petyr pushed the sheets up on the bed out of the way. Thankful for the extra light now the sheet was out of the way. His eyes widened at the now clear person, the cause of the noise was a girl, or at least what looked like a girl. Kill the girl! His mind ordered. She had her eyes clenched shut and was shivering on the ice like floor. She knows what I've done. The girl must die! No loose ends, that was how he worked, why he was so successful. Petyr asked himself how he'd missed the her. How? Baelish now had to eliminate the obstacle in his way before she could reveal his after hours job to the world. He reached into the darkness under the wooden frame and towards the girl. She began screaming at the top of her lungs and he was suddenly thankful that they were far away from anyone else. Petyr practically had to clamber under the bed in order to pull her out, dropping his blade to the floor as he did, she clawed at the floor, unsuccessfully almost denting the wood in desperation. The female obstacle tried to pull away back under the bed but Petyr proved far too strong for the struggling girl. With one arm he held her in place, while the other retrieved his trusty lock knife as he did he saw the girl clearly for the first time. His mind faulted for a moment and before he knew it the blade dropped, letting it make a metallic clang when it hit the floor. All anger in him at that moment lost the battle to shock, he saw what he had originally been oblivious to. The girl was naked and covered in a thick layer of dirt. Petyr pulled her closer into the moonlight to gain a better look at the nude and petrified form before him, but found something fighting him, something stronger than her desperate struggles. Petyr's mouth fell open, his green-grey eyes widened to the horror of what fought him. She was chained to the bedpost, most likely why the bed was strong and solid, older looking than everything else Joffrey had in his home. Again the girl tried to crawl back underneath the bed, but still Baelish was too strong. She screamed but it lacked volume, like she didn't have the energy._

 _Petyr's stormy orbs followed the silver linked chain up to an old brown leather collar tight around her neck, her body covered in painful purple-yellow bruises and small cuts, some so old that they had become scars. The chain would not let her move far beyond Joffrey's heavy bed. Her hair was long and wild, her lips cracked and dehydrated. The female's pale hands where caked in grime. She had clearly been bound to the bed, confined, for a long time, just how long he could not even imagine, but it was long enough for the collar to scar her dirty neck, burn it and rub it raw. Petyr loosened his grip, a result of his shock, he had killed but he was nowhere near capable of such cruelty. Seeing her single chance for escape she ripped herself out of his grasp and launched for the darkness, her little haven. His mind returned allowing him to grab the girl's thigh and pulled her back to him. Another traumatic squeal that burned his ears._

No! No, he wasn't going to think about that. Not now, not ever. He shook the memories free and locked them back up where they belonged.

"Just wanted a cigarette, Sweetling. Tristan is still asleep, Lady is with him. Go back to sleep."

Sansa's eyes were already half-closed again so it really didn't take long for her to slip off like Poppy had.

All in all it had been a rather productive night. Petyr had planted an idea in Lysa's head that was sure to take root and grow. He'd solved his wedding ring crisis and his family slept soundly. _Multi-tasker extraordinaire_ _,_ he mused to himself.


	14. I Fear, I Faulter, I Fall

Baelish arrived at Lysa's office somewhere between half ten and half eleven in the morning to help with some paperwork regarding the company and Jon Arryn's death. As he stepped off the elevator briefcase in hand he glanced down to his ring finger and the small band of platinum that called it home; he hated but Petyr slowly worked it off his finger and tucked it safely away in the tiny pocket of his deep purple waistcoat. His _assistance_ clearly wasn't liked by Royce or the rest of Vale's board if the glares he got were anything to go by, not that Petyr cared.

With a calming breath Petyr strode towards Lysa's office as though he owned the place because … well, he soon would. His wedding ring hung heavy in his pocket but the man with ash at his temples knew – though not very observant – Lysa would notice if it suddenly returned. He knocked on the office door and entered without even waiting for any acknowledgement. Inside he found Lysa sat at her desk with Robin clung to her like some sort of conjoined twin; she beamed at him as though he were the answer to all her prayers.

Meanwhile across King's Landing, away from the financial district, Sansa sat out in the sun while Poppy and a now well Tristan bounced around the soft grass, laughing and playing. Lady napped happily under the deck table in the shade. It had been a while since Sansa had just sat in the sun and sketched, she had when Petyr had taken Lysa to dinner but that had been more panicked scrawling than anything with any actual skill. This though, this was peaceful. Steadily she sketched the cliffs off in the distance, their rises and falls, then came shading and depth until Sansa had a rather accurate drawing that she could be proud of; a small bit of art, just grey lines but Sansa had made it come to life.

She flicked through her sketch pad and smiled when she stumbled across a basic sketch she'd done weeks earlier of Petyr while he'd slept. Some days Sansa still couldn't quite believe this was her life. All she'd ever known was pain and horror and loss, Sansa had almost forgotten anything else existed and then Petyr Baelish had stepped quietly into her life and let in the light. Thinking back she remembered when he'd brought her home, he'd run her a bath and cleaned her off in the warm water; that had been the first time someone had touched her with kindness. He'd fed her and given her a soft bed to sleep in without really wanting anything in return. He really had thrown back the curtains and let in the day.

At first it had all be so blinding and more terrifying than one of Joffrey's fits but that was all behind her; at least as behind her as it would get. The redhead knew Petyr wouldn't let the horror touch her ever again. Her children's father, her husband, but her Master most of all, not because she thought he owned her but because she'd chosen him to be her Master; Sansa had learnt he was just as much hers just as much as she was his.

Baelish had taught her to be a person again and not just any person but a strong woman. Yes, she still had a lot of bad days – had days when she'd wanted to just crawl under the bed and clamp her eyes shut – but Petyr believed in her always. If Sansa stayed weak and afraid then Joffrey, Ramsay, Duvall and Kaegan would have won even in death. No, Sansa wouldn't give their ghosts the satisfaction.

The young redhead rolled up the sleeves of her black and white striped top to reveal the mass of small burn marks from cigarettes and long scars from knives. Sansa thought them horrid but Petyr insisted they were marks of how strong his wife was and maybe he was right. She was successfully raising two young children and had stood up for herself several times; Sansa was strong. The dark memories wouldn't ever be gone, never go numb – to wish for that would be stupid and a waste of time – but Joffrey and the others couldn't ever win because Sansa no longer let those terrors and nightmares rule her.

"I win." She said to herself.

"You're not playing, Mommy."

That snapped her out of her thoughts and to her son as he stood before her in the sunlight. If it hadn't been for Petyr then Tristan would have had to suffer at Joffrey's hands as well. Sansa didn't want to think of any of that.

"Sorry, Tris." She shook her horrid memories away. "Mommy was just thinking. I love you."

Oh she did. She loved that little boy from the second she'd set eyes on him and nothing would ever change that.

"Ice cream!" The young boy suddenly announced eagerly which got Sansa smiling.

"You love ice cream, why am I not surprised."

"Please, Mommy?"

The boy pulled his best _I'll be good_ face – which Sansa was certain Petyr had taught him – and grinned.

"Well, it is warm and you and your sister have been very good. I suppose you can have some."

Tristan bounced up and down on the spot happily then jumped into his mother's arms where he snuggled in close to her. Sansa wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, she pressed a light kiss to the top of his head while Poppy continued to run about on the grass.

"What happened, Mommy?"

Tris pointed to some of the burn marks and scars that littered his mother's arms. The redhead snapped her attention down. Tristan's little hands were so soft on her blemished skin. Instantly she shoved her sleeves down; she didn't want the kids seeing those.

"Em, for … for a long time a bad man hurt Mommy." Sansa didn't know how to explain it to Tristan, she didn't want to explain it to him.

"Did Daddy hurt the bad man back?"

Sansa raised an eyebrow. Tristan and Poppy weren't aware of how dangerous their loving and doting father really was but they knew he was powerful and protective of his family. Sansa was silent for a moment.

"... Yes, baby boy, he did."

Frankly _hurt_ was putting mildly.

"Can we have ice cream now?"

Sansa chuckled. She envied Tristan for his ability to just move on as though nothing had ever happened, but, then again, it was probably just the innocence of childhood. She took a calming breath.

"Yeah, Tris." She glanced up to see Poppy trying to do a handstand. "Go get your sister."

Little Tristan charged off then towards his sister and Sansa found herself lost once again in thoughts of the past and what ifs. What would her life have been like if Cersei Lannister hadn't had her family killed? She'd have grown up with her parents, siblings and her cousin, Jon. She'd have gone to school and made friends. Would she have been happy? Probably. Would she have haunting nightmares that scared her under beds? No. To most that would have sounded like the preferred option, however, Sansa didn't know if it was really the better one. Poppy never would have been born. Tristan would have stayed with his prostitute birth mother and child raping father. And Petyr? He would have still had his secrets and his club, his power and his wealth, but he would have been alone. No wife, no children. In fact, the closest thing to love Petyr would have would be Lysa's sick obsession with him. She's never have met him, and even if she somehow had Sansa wouldn't have seen the real him; the kindness, the protectiveness, how much love he was capable of. Yes, Sansa had suffered through horrors no person should ever be subjected to, but in a way she was glad her life had gone the way it had. She would rather the torture and the abuse knowing that in the end she got to share her life with Petyr Baelish, knowing Petyr got to meet their little girl, knowing Tristan was her son and not existing in God knows what as Thorin Marx.

Poppy and Tristan rushed passed her into the house for ice cream with Lady following after; Tristan had Copper clutched in his arms. Had her life been idea? No, certainly not. Yet she was their mother and Petyr's wife and Sansa didn't want that to ever change.

~X~

With the weather warming up Petyr had found his patience almost non-existent, he'd never done well with heat; made him homicidally grumpy. He sat at his home office desk where he went over The Mockingbird's profits for the last quarter. Some days he wondered just how many pies he had his fingers in, club, Lion and Stag, the disposal of the not so alive as well as a barrel of other things. Sansa had called him a busy little bee once which was both highly amusing and completely accurate.

When a loud knock sounded at the dark wooden door it took a moment for his brain to register it. Poppy and Tristan had a tendency to slap their little palms on the door while the soft and gentle knock was the sound of his beloved Sansa.

"Yes, Sweetling?" He called out.

The young redhead stepped into her husband's office with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands that she set down on his desk quickly. Coffee was perfect, just what he needed. Petyr took a sip from the large cup and let out a little hum as he pushed his chair back to pat his knee with his free hand. Sansa smiled and was quick to slip into his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck as she cuddled in close to him; breathed in his scent. With his free hand Petyr couldn't resist running his coffee-less hand through her flaming locks.

"Tristan alright?" He asked softly before Petyr took another sip.

Sansa nodded. "Yes, Master."

The man with ash at his temples paused at that. Petyr put his coffee down and shifted Sansa so she straddled him; he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Sansa, Sweetling, you're not in trouble and you certainly didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes, Master." She said with her head lowered.

Baelish slipped two fingers underneath her chin and lifted her head to looks Sansa in the eyes; green met blue. Sansa had done so well in the years they'd known one another but every now and again she'd slip back into this submissive and dangerous head space.

"Sansa, Tristan would have eventually seen your scars, that was unavoidable, my love. It's not that you did anything wrong." Petyr assured his wife.

"What if I scared him, Master?"

Petyr pulled her closer to him. "No, Sweetling, you didn't. You told him someone hurt you and that I put a stop to it. If anything you reassured him."

She peeked up at him. "You think so, Petyr?"

 _Oh good, she's coming out of it._ "I know so, my love." He locked his lips with Sansa's a moment for a chaste kiss. "Although, i t might be nice to let him know _you_ were the one who … carried Joffrey's removal from the land of the living out. You killed him all on your own, my brave -" kiss "- strong -" kiss "powerful, girl."

Sansa shied away from her husband's praise. "I don't think I'm brave or strong or powerful. I'm still scared of everything."

Littlefinger breathed out a laugh and ran his hands up Sansa's thighs. "I know you are, my love. You always will be, but you still did all those things, didn't you, despite the fear." Another kiss. "That makes you braver, stronger and more powerful than all of us." He chuckled darkly. "It also makes me _really_ want to fuck you."

Petyr pulled her close and breathed his wife in; tantalising as always. Sansa smiled.

"I love you, Master."

He growled in want. Yes, she'd said 'Master' again but this wasn't like before, this was said as _her_ word. Sansa owned it and she got to make it mean what she pleased. The man with ash at his temples calmly pushed his coffee away from his computer and then in a smooth motion shoved shoved his wife onto the antique wooden desk then started to push up her skirt and tug her tights down. Sansa hadn't ever worn shoes in the house, did everything in bare feet like she was one with the earth and Petyr found it adorable, it also made Petyr's job of ridding her legs of fabric a whole lot easier.

The older man kissed as her clavicle while he slipped off her panties … and then his fingers were teasing the redhead; Sansa all but purred. There had been a time when the slightest touch would send Sansa into a panic but now she knew Petyr only granted pleasure and she delighted in it. Most thought him a selfish man and he was, he plotted and conned to get whatever he wanted, prized his Aston Martin and kept Sansa all to himself, but when it came to giving his wife pleasure Petyr would give and give and give until she couldn't take it any longer.

"What are the children doing?" His husky voice asked before he licked along the shell of her ear.

"I … I – oh Gods – I put them down for a nap."

Perfect, Petyr smirked devilishly. "Fantastic."

After one more kiss to the redhead's soft pink lips and Petyr dropped to his knees to kiss up her long, scarred legs until he found where Sansa needed him most. When she tried to grip the table Petyr grabbed her soft, delicate hands and thrust them into his hair where they belonged. Baelish loved it when his perfect wife just took her pleasure from him.

It wasn't long before Sansa wrapped her legs around his head; Petyr clung possessively to her hips to keep them from bucking up.

The sound of his young wife's moans and pants spurred him on, the needy sound of her want almost as delectable as her taste. To Petyr his wife was like an angel he didn't deserve but he'd forever keep to himself.

"Master." She cried breathlessly; clearly close.

Petyr smirked as his tongue continued to drive his young wife to the very edge and then finally, _finally_ , with a scream she came on his tongue.

With a pleased grin the Armani clad man settled back into his seat and pulled Sansa back into his lap where she collapsed against him gently. She smelt sweet like strawberries, tasted sweet as well.

"I love you." She breathed softly against into his shoulder.

"How could I ever ask for more, my love."

The loving pair sat in quiet for a time while Sansa got her breath back. His warmth drifted through her clothes and deep inside her chest; it comforted her.

"... What are you two going to do about Detective Inspector Heyerdahl?" Sansa's angelic voice asked after a moment.

Petyr pressed a loving kiss to her temple. "Oh, my Sweetling, it's very simple. I have decided to frame Heyerdahl for all the deaths. He's universally considered hostile and volatile so the idea isn't too much of a reach. The deaths Fredek Sugrue committed can – of course – remain unsolved but we can work it so Heyerdahl suffers for all the crimes."

"Why?"

Petyr pulled her closer to his chest almost possessively; well, completely possessively.

"I don't like the way he looked at you and it deals with all our problems, Sweetling. We get rid of him and King's Landing gets Cersei Lannister's killer. Everyone's happy and going for celebratory pizza."

That actually got a chuckle out of his wife.

"Won't it be hard?"

Petyr wished Sansa hadn't said that, he was still hard from hearing her screams. Sansa must have noticed because her soft hand deftly opened his belt and slipped inside his pants, past his briefs and to the prize.

"It – ahh! - won't be easy, no, but I – _fuck, Sansa_ – I have a lot of the Forensics team paid off." His perfect wife slid from his lap and onto her knees. Petyr grinned as she freed him from his pants and took her husband into her mouth. Baelish's green eyes rolled back in his head as he almost growled with want. "It'll take a lot of work and I need to get most of the evidence reports edited which isn't easy. Don't – _shit, baby girl –_ don't doubt me though, Sweetling, I will get Heyerdahl's DNA, preferably skin, and then it'll all be done."

Petyr couldn't take it any longer, he could run and plot at the same time, he could play with his kids and plot, he could disseminate a body and plot, but Petyr couldn't plot while his perfect wife used her angelic mouth on him.

"Fuck, I love you." He growled when he came on her tongue.

Cerulean orbs flashed up at him so innocently, as though she'd not just swallowed his cum. So beautiful with her flaming hair and porcelain skin.

Carefully, Petyr tucked himself away and managed to pull Sansa up into his lap once again. That was her place, cuddled into his chest. When he'd first found the redhead she'd done that to feel safe, but now she helped to ground Petyr, her presence turned his mind off and calmed his being. Sansa was a wonder he knew he didn't deserve, but still she was Sansa Baelish – well, Alayne Baelish – and Littlefinger wouldn't ever let her go; not just because he was selfish but because he honestly didn't know if he could be without her any longer.

"Promise?"

He smirked. "Always, Sansa, Sweetling. _Always_."

The redhead clung to him tightly with a large smile, he made her happy. How could he not love her?


	15. Strong Men, Weak Men

DI Heyerdahl marched into Petyr's club shortly before they opened with a warrant for a drugs search and a smug grin on his ill-aged face. People raked through his club, moving things, breaking bottles _accidentally_ and Petyr didn't have a fucking choice about it. He combed through every single word to check if Heyerdahl had somehow stuck something else in last minute. Sansa sat on the couch in her husband's office with her children and a very angry Lady. She growled every time one of the cops got even a step too close; except from Sebastian Larroquette. Oren eyed the dog cautiously.

"Why don't she bark at him?" The tall black man demanded.

"... Lady is a good judge of character." Sansa eventually replied without raising her eyes from Poppy.

"Saying I'm a cunt, sweet cheeks?"

Petyr didn't like him being anywhere near his wife and even less his children, he'd not stand for it. So, like any good husband who'd happily murder an entire police team just to get an asshole away from his beloved redhead, Baelish distracted Heyerdahl by pissing him off with sarcasm.

"As if we'd insult the police, Detective Heyerdahl. The very idea wounds me." He cleared his throat obviously unimpressed by the black man's glare. "Now, I suggest you get your – frankly reductions – search over with so I can get back to work."

"Give me the key to the upstairs apartment." Heyerdahl sneered. "It's the whole building we're searching."

"No." Petyr remarked simply as he leant back in his desk chair and finally set the warrant down.

Sansa peered at him cautiously, as did DS Larroquette but Petyr didn't waver, he may not have been an overly tall or physically strong man, but he was as stubborn as they came and would stand his ground so long as he had a shred of information to back himself up with.

DI Heyerdahl pointed a stubby finger out at the warrant that lay on Baelish's desk.

"That there is a warrant. You have to."

Petyr nodded. "Indeed it is. So, when you supply me with a warrant that includes the apartment I'll happily do so. This warrant states my business and all storage areas associated with. When I bought this property the apartment and club had two separate owners despite being the same building. They'd been registered as two properties almost twenty years. I acquired the upstairs apartment two years after the club but they're still listed separately. So, Detective Inspector, get a second warrant or as Ros really nicely."

Oren raised an eyebrow. "Ros?"

Petyr nodded slightly. "She's my tenant."

Sensing his bosses anger rising Sebastian stepped forwards.

"And where is she, Sir?"

Heyerdahl glared at his DS. In his opinion Baelish didn't deserve Larroquette's queer pleasantries. Petyr flashed Sebastian a small smile as he held his hand out, Lady padded over to nuzzle against him.

"Bravos. She's visiting her cousin."

"I'm interviewing your whores as well." Heyerdahl growled, he wanted some sort of upper hand now he knew he'd not be getting upstairs.

"Burlesque dancers," Littlefinger corrected "and I'll thank you to refer to them as such, Detective Inspector. Wouldn't want a formal complain being put in about yet more discrimination and prejudice from you, now would we."

Sebastian smirked behind his open notebook, an expression Petyr found infectious. They could all see Heyerdahl's face, the anger, the desperate urge to bite out some come back, unfortunately too many instances had occurred before and the DI couldn't afford another strike. As a result of the metaphorical cliff edge he stood on Oren – amazingly – stayed silent and instead stormed off out of Littlefinger's office.

Silence lingered a time. No one there liked Heyerdahl or how he worked, not Petyr or Sansa and certainly not his DS.

"Daddy!" Poppy's happy call snapped everyone from their thoughts and Petyr instantly grinned.

It was fairly clear to Baelish that his wife was struggling with all the conflict and tension going on but she hung in there. Petyr rose from his chair and lifted Poppy into his arms, she snuggled into his chest to breath in her father's calming scent. Such a Daddy's girl.

"We'll run a search, bring in a sniffer dog like I said."

"It's alright." Petyr said without looking up from his daughter. "Let Heyerdahl take his time."

Sebastian Larroquette lead the investigation while Heyerdahl attempted to taunt or trick Petyr and his staff into letting something slip; of course no one did, Petyr wasn't that dumb and his staff feared him more than Heyerdahl.

Petyr got Oly to take Sansa and the children out to the bar to get some sort of overly sugary drink that they'd undoubtedly love. Littlefinger returned to his leather chair where he sat imposingly in his sharp three-piece suit of blacks and greens. He'd not let Heyerdahl intimidate him in his own fucking club, The Mockingbird was Petyr's domain, there he was king.

DS Larroquette and the forensic team went through every nook and cranny The Mockingbird had to offer but found nothing, even if Petyr hadn't have had his club wiped down like an obsessive compulsive's bathroom, he owned almost everyone on that forensic team. Petyr was sitting pretty.

Eventually the police had to call it, they'd failed to find anything and couldn't hang around all day lest it lead to an harassment complaint. The tall black man stormed into Petyr's office with Sebastian trailing behind him looking tired and pissed off. Petyr just smirked, without a leg to stand on the KLPD would no doubt be on their way.

Fists slammed down on Baelish's large mahogany desk while eyes of ire fixed themselves on Petyr's bold green ones. Littlefinger didn't care just slipped a piece of minty gum into his mouth and leant back in his chair.

"I take it you weren't successf-"

"You did this!" Heyerdahl yelled. "You killed and buried all those people and I am going to prove it. I am going to tear down everything you've built. I'm going to leave your children fatherless and that slut wife of yours working on street corners." Sebastian's eyes went wide; he was thankful Missus Baelish hadn't been there to hear that. "And do you know why I'm going to take everything from you? Not because it's my job to uphold the law, not because you're a killer, but because you think you can win anything. This is one game you can't win. I am going to destroy you, Petyr Baelish."

Petyr leaned forwards in his leather chair, a smirk on his lips as he continued to chew his gum.

"Well," he began slowly "don't make too much noise about it. Good day, gentlemen."

The man with ash at his temples never once looked affected by but inside he was fire and rage, he wanted to rip DI Heyerdahl apart for what he'd said of Sansa, wanted to sneer at him while he drained the blood from his body. Wanted to flay every single shred of skin from his leathery body for threatening his children, wanted to kill him, but no, Petyr was too controlled for that; Heyerdahl's end approached and Petyr would be there to savour the sight when the day came.

When DS Larroquette noticed the twitch in Petyr's eyes he stepped forwards and started on about there being nothing at The Mockingbird and them having other avenues to explore; it managed to get Heyerdahl's fists off the desk and out the building. 'Shall I expect you tomorrow' Petyr had called after the horrendous Detective Inspector. After a moment of silence and the two men staring at one another, Sebastian broke the quiet.

"I am so sorry about that, no one deserves that."

"Men who think themselves strong are, in fact, the weakest. When they realize that they implode, the trick is to make sure you're clear and don't get sucked in with them."

Sebastian breathed out a tiny laugh. "Wise words."

"Indeed."

The two men stared at one another again though this time for far less time and then, as quickly as they'd all entered, the police were gone and Petyr had full control of his club back.

He sat there for several minutes alone and thinking until his office door, which DS Larroquette had calmly closed, opened to reveal Olyvar, Sansa, the children and Lady.

"Boss," the blonde began even before he was fully over the threshold "I-"

Petyr stopped him with a raised hand. His family and Olyvar watched as Petyr rose from his desk and yanked something out of his safe, he searched the whole room with whatever it was, then, after a moment, he shoved it back in the safe, locked it and slumped back down.

"Go on, can never be too careful as to what's been bugged."

"Em, okay. As far as I can tell that forensics team wasn't really doing anything."

Baelish smirked just as Ros entered the room.

"Enjoy your vacation?" He asked teasingly which got a smirk from Ros.

"Loved it." The woman had been upstairs the whole time.

"Boss," Everyone's attention went to Olyvar "we managed to shift everything up to Ros' apartment before they showed up. That dog they brought in only hit on a couple of things and from what I overheard from its handler that was 'trace amounts' and was more likely coming off the cash that comes through her than any actual drugs."

Petyr chuckled. "Amazing what twenty-thousand will make people say, then again, money is filthy so it could have been the truth. The hallway to the bedrooms?"

"You know when the hall door is shut no one can see it." Oly's brow furrowed. "That younger cop – the one that looks like an Anime character – he stood with his back to it most of the time he was on the floor."

Petyr smirked to himself as he went to his wife and kids. Sansa rested against his chest and he ran a hand through Poppy's red hair after he'd taken Tristan from her arms.

"Get back to work." He ordered his lackeys. "We open in a few hours."

Ros' seemed cautious; unusual for her. "What if folk hear about the cops sniffing about? We'll loose business, this place thrives on secrecy."

Littlefinger sighed and turned to Ros; sweet, pretty but dumb Ros.

"Ros, darling, I just conned my way out a drugs bust, do you _really_ think people are going to find out about today?" She didn't answer, just looked down at her feet realizing how stupid she'd sounded. "Now, get back to work."

"Yes, Boss." Said Olyvar quickly before he guided Ros out of the office and closed the door behind him.

Petyr took a moment to ground himself, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Sometimes it hurt his head being twenty-nine moves ahead of everyone.

He spun back around to his young wife to find she'd sat herself down on the couch. The children sat beside her playing with one another but Sansa stared off blankly at the floor beside her beloved wolfdog. Littlefinger, the brothel owner, the cleaner and all the other hats he wore melted away to leave behind Petyr the husband. He crouched down beside his perfect girl and rested his hand on her thigh.

"Just breath, Sweetling." He comforted softly.

"... What if he's right and he really does all those things? I can't cope without you, I don't even know who I'd be without you. … and the children?"

Tears started to brew in her cerulean orbs, a sight Petyr had seen more than enough for one lifetime. He pulled himself up onto the leather couch beside her and pulled Sansa against his chest, he clung to her tightly while the redhead tried desperately not to cry. Meanwhile Poppy and Tristan played with Lady completely unaware of the things their parents discussed.

"You're far braver than you think, Sweetling. It's not going to happen." He promised. "Besides, if it did – which it won't – you would be fine. You're strong and wildly intelligent and we have friends remember?"

Sansa nodded though she found little comfort in what her husband said. He kissed the top of her head lovingly.

"Do you remember when I first taught you to fire a gun?" Sansa nodded against his chest. "You shot the target in the bloody dick." Another kiss. "That's the sort of woman you are, Sansa. You don't just cut off the head, you destroy a man that tries to hurt you."

"You saying I can shoot him in the dick?"

That made him laugh, there was his perfect wife always being so perfect.

"If you want to immaculate the Detective Inspector, you go right ahead, my love. I'll need to accelerate our plans a little now DI Heyerdahl is really gunning for me. His threatening needs work though, it's all drama and very little follow through." Petyr's thumb rubbed absent-mindedly over Sansa's arm.

Clearly he'd been lost in his thoughts again. When he was really deep down in his head plotting he got this blank look on his face like his body was there but his mind had been uploaded somewhere else; a doll that had been wiped.

Searching out comfort, Sansa rolled his sleeve up slowly if a bit awkwardly thanks to his suit jacket. Only when her soft fingers started to trace over the wolf tattoo that had completed his sleeve did Petyr finally return to reality. Green eyes peered down at her touch just as she traced the S. Sansa had picked up this little habit years ago, it soothed her. He made no attempt to stop her.

"We need to be careful now, my love. Heyerdahl convinced a judge for a warrant for my club, he did that to try and get something to prompt a warrant to the house."

"Why can't he just do that now?" Asked Sasna, she'd never been very good with the inner workings of the law.

"Because he's the only one who thinks I'm involved right now. Obviously it's not worked but he won't be discourage." Petyr pulled her tighter against his body and soothing warmth. "Worry not, Sweetling."

"Daddy hurts bad men."

Green and blue eyes peered down at their son who carried on playing some strange, rule-less, clapping game with Poppy.

Petyr smirked. "What can I say? He knows his father."

Before destroying Oren Heyerdahl had just been business, but after treating his wife, son and daughter, it had become personal. And, given the opportunity, what did people do to those who hurt the ones they loved?


	16. Close Call

It was one of the rare days when Sansa was at Lion and Stag and Petyr was at home. He'd been at his home office setting in motion his plan to destroy Heyerdahl. Baelish hadn't slept well, not out of fear of Heyerdahl's threat no, what had interfered with his sleep was that he'd woken in the night to find Sansa laying under the bed. He'd not have her slip back into that. Petyr remembered the scared little girl he'd found all those years ago at Joffrey's ostentatious house. Baelish couldn't let hi wife become that girl again. He'd spent the whole night watching her sleep hoping she'd not wake again and clamber under the bed once more. The lack of sleep was why he'd found himself on his sixth cup of coffee that morning and why he'd sent Sansa to the office.

Gwendolyn always watched out for her; they'd played it off by saying that Alayne had an anxiety disorder which – after everything that had happened in her life – was more than likely true. Sansa would be safe with Gwendolyn … if the blonde knew what was good for her.

Petyr had just started to debate more coffee when the doorbell sounded. No one ever just popped around to Petyr's home, it wasn't done. He groaned wondering if it was Sebastian and Heyerdahl wanting yet more answers to even stupider questions. With a sigh he rose from his chair and headed to the front door. Petyr smiled when green eyes found a note taped to the back of the door. ' _Love you'_ had been written in Sansa's crude but improving handwriting. All the horror she'd experienced and yet there was the clear sign of her innocence and goodness.

The doorbell sounded again and drew Petyr's attention away from the note. He yanked the door open. Lysa. _Nope!_ She was the very last person he'd wanted to see. _I'm going back to the note, the note was nicer, the note was better. Hell, a dead dog would be better._ With immense control to keep him from grimacing he drew his eyes over her similarly to how one would eye a pig in lipstick. Her dress could only be described as much too tight and short for a woman of Lysa's age. The rich blue color would have been delightful on Sansa, still, he forced himself into his adulterous persona and smiled brightly.

"I called your office and that idiot assistant of yours answered, told me you were working from home but that whore, Alayne, was there." She pressed up against the door frame in some form of ineffective seduction. "Are you surprised?"

"Oh, I'm certainly surprised, Lysa." Not a happy surprise of course. "How about I take you to lunch? Flavoroso maybe?"

"I intend on being your lunch, big boy."

Petyr actually had to suppress his gag reflex, a single sentence hadn't ever been so disgusting before. It took him a moment but he managed to shove down the desperate urge to head for the hills. There was a perfectly good cliff at the bottom of his garden so Petyr could have just dove off the edge and never looked back. Short of killing himself Baelish didn't see a way out of this. Sansa had saved him the last time but he'd not be so lucky twice; lightning didn't strike the same spot twice and all that. Clearly Lysa had planned this to make herself feel clever and powerful, then of course there was the sex she wanted. There wouldn't be any deterring her from her plan.

The next thing Petyr knew he'd been pressed up against the table that stood proud in the centre of his vestibule, the turned edges dug into the base of his spine and pinched. Her kiss was harsh and undeniably unwelcome, if roles were reversed and he'd done this to a woman for decades on end he'd have been incarcerated and labelled a pervert by now. Her tongue felt like some sort of slug in heat; sickening, horrid, and after that words failed him.

He'd managed to keep his sexual encounters with her to a total minimum but blind luck had run out. Petyr made sure to keep his hands roaming over her flanks, the longer Lysa thought he couldn't stop touching her the better, it meant he could put this all off longer. Petyr managed to keep her occupied with just heavy petting for a while, not long enough though. Eventually Lysa forced him backwards up the stairs and into the bedroom he shared with his sweet wife; Petyr could already feel Sansa's heart break and he hated himself for it. Had Sansa never existed the man with ash at his temples probably would have just married Lysa and gotten Vale Limited out of her that way, but Sansa did exist, she was the first thing he'd cared about other than himself since he'd been fifteen. He had to think of a way out of this.

Lysa pushed him down with such force that he bounced lightly on the large mattress, she kissed and bit at his skin with little skill or sultry delight, similar to a baby bird snapping for food. The suit clad man let out a few hums of pleasure just to keep up appearances while he thought of his escape plan. Suddenly Lysa ground to a halt and Petyr thanked any an all Gods … or at least he did until he noticed she'd spotted his wedding ring. He'd taken it off every time he'd met with her since she'd tossed it out the window of his Aston but in his desperate urge not to throw her down the stairs he'd forgotten about the shiny metal that adorned his finger.

The aged redhead's whole body tensed. "Did you go and find that?!" She hissed. "Did you go looking for this piece of shit?"

 _Yes! Yes, I fucking did. Unlike you I actually love my spouse and would rather be fucking her brains out right now that suppressing the urge to vomit! We're not ten anymore and I sure as shit don't love you._ Petyr forced his mind to calm down, he'd clung to Pop when they were kids because he wasn't crazy. Lysa had hated his friend and he'd adored that.

"No, darling." He said showing nothing of his inner thoughts. "It's just a replacement, isn't even platinum. I got it so she couldn't notice and loose it. Just a piece of costume jewellery to keep Alayne quiet until it's time for you and me to leave." He flashed her that disarming smile of his. "Fear not, Lysa, Alayne means nothing."

He certainly didn't mention that he'd spent hours personally searching through a field full of crap and exhaust coated grass to find it. Had Baelish not put so many years into taking Vale from the Arryns, Petyr would have just called the whole thing off and saved them all the trouble of such a sickening pretence.

Petyr let Lysa drag him into another of her sloppy kisses as she swelled with happiness, always ready to believe any half-ass lie he spun. After so many years of Lysa's infuriating obsession he'd learnt to play her like a fiddle.

Somehow the redhead managed to get Baelish's shirt open and shoved it down his tattooed arms until it caught at his wrists where his sleeves were still buttoned. Then she started on his pants, Lysa would get a shock when she got to his briefs because there was no way in hell he'd be able to get it up for her. A: he certainly didn't want to. B: This bed was his and Sansa's bed, the wife he actually loved. Poppy and Tristan had slept in this bed. Gods, Poppy had been fucking conceived in it.

He managed to free his hands and didn't see where his shirt got discarded, it was unimportant information, Petyr's focus was firmly set on how to get out of this horrendous situation without killing her or breaking his promise to Sansa and having – he didn't even want to think about it – sex with this walking eyesore. Petyr wasn't Sherlock Holmes, he didn't have a mind palace to store away little nuggets of information and hide in. Frankly he likened himself more to Mycroft Holmes, the smarter elder brother who just memorized it all without needing to retrace his steps. Yet, despite all that, Petyr managed to slip off into his head while Lysa continued to essentially assault him.

Littlefinger set his mind to the task of getting himself out of this horror show. A dozen or more ideas filtered through his head in the space of a few seconds but none were of any real use. No, he was down to two options now for sure, kill her or fuck her and Petyr knew which one he chose.

In a smooth motion Petyr flipped them over so he was on top of the deranged redhead and placed his hands firmly around her throat.

Lysa grinned. "Kinky."

 _More like murdery_ , replied his mind without missing a beat. Something caught his attention then though and green eyes flashed up to the bedroom door. Sansa. There in the doorway stood his sweet Sansa, her cerulean orbs kept flicking between him and his hands around her aunt's throat. 'Help me' he mouthed to her when Lysa let out a wanton purr and let her eyes slip shut. Hardly a moment passed before his stunning wife nodded and vanished from sight.

Baelish released his grip on Lysa's throat, it wasn't her day to die: seemed blind luck did continue. Just as she tried to pull him down for another kiss Sansa slammed the front door shut then her angelic voice called up the stairs.

"Petyr, are you here? Gwendolyn told me you wanted to take me to lunch."

Lysa froze, her eyes snapped open and she growled when Petyr sat back on his haunches. He took a calming breath then stood up and silently thanked his wife's timing; maybe it was a superpower. She'd saved him twice now from Lysa – goddamn – Arryn.

"You need to leave, Lysa." He said calmly.

She didn't budge, not one inch. "Why don't we just _tell_ her? She'll find out eventually."

"I know, darling, but if we do this too soon she can and will take my kids and most of Lion and Stag."

Lysa sighed and got up as well. "Fine."

Petyr tucked himself away then guided Lysa downstairs. Of course he acted cautious but knew Sansa would stay out of their way until he'd gotten Lysa out of their home. He all but yanked the large, black door open and shuffled Lysa out as quickly as he was able.

"I love you, Petyr."

She tugged him into another unwanted kiss. "I know. I'll call you once I've dealt with my wife."

Lysa flashed him what she thought was a caring and loving but actually just came across as possessive and disturbing grin.

"I'm so sorry you have to suffer to keep a woman you hate oblivious."

Petyr smirked. "You have no idea."

He shut the door then and rushed through the house looking for his perfect wife. When he stepped into the living room he found it vacant, Petyr glanced over at the kitchen but she wasn't there either, then Baelish spotted the French doors open. Still shirtless he headed out and sat down besides his redhead on the deck. She stared off into space while Lady bounced about in the grass with a much loved tennis ball.

"I'm sorry, my love. She just showed up."

Petyr tried to kiss her but Sansa refused. That was her rule, he nodded to himself. The CEO disappeared inside a time only to come back a few minutes later with a bottle of mouthwash. He opened the cap as he sat back down and gulped some down while Sansa watched him out the corner of her eye as he gargled then spat the blue liquid out onto the grass. The bottle found itself cast aside and then Petyr pulled Sansa into his lap so he could lock their lips together in a much needed kiss. She smelt so sweet and perfect, always did, always would.

"I'm sorry, Sansa."

Another kiss and Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I'm not upset, Master, and I love you too. I know this has to happen and you have to play along but, it's just … that's out bed."

Petyr pulled her closer so their chested pressed together.

"It's gone." He promised, his breath hot against her neck. "I'll turn it into firewood it you want, my Sweetling."

She looked up at him with those bold blue eyes of hers. "You would burn a king sized bed for me just because my Aunt Lysa touched it?"

He chuckled devilishly. "Sansa, Sweetling, I'll burn anything for you, you know that. I've killed for you, burning is nothing."

Their tongues met in a battle for dominance that Petyr quickly won, their foreheads touched every now and again when they separated for air before letting their lips brush against each other's once more. Her scent flooded his senses, their kiss wasn't innocent more like a tease, hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. This was what he wanted, his wife, his loving and beautiful wife.

"Lunch?" She asked when they finally broke apart.

"Probably best not to burn that." He teased, more occupied with Sansa's porcelain skin.

She chuckled. "No, I mean can we actually go to lunch? Just forget about this until we pick up Tristan and Poppy from pre-school."

In a way this was a form of denial but Petyr didn't care, a distraction would be good for Sansa; would be good for both of them.

"Of course, Sansa, if that's what you want then you'll get it."

He'd not actually asked Sansa to go to lunch, she'd just made that up for Lysa but if that was what his beautiful girl wanted then they'd damn well go to lunch.

"I'll get us a new bed delivered by this evening and then you and I can christen it." He smirked.

"You can do that so quickly?" She seemed sceptical; a trait she'd picked up from him.

Laughter rumbled though her husband, she felt it vibrate in his ribcage.

"Sweetling, I can do anything with little more than a phone call." Anyone who'd so much as heard of Petyr Baelish in passing knew that was true. "Now I think about it, why did you come home? Thought you were putting in face time."

Sansa sighed. "Lothor Brune and Ulf Pellegrino were arguing and it got really loud. I was okay but then Pellegrino said something …. J-" She took a breath. "Something Joffrey said."

That got Petyr to perk up and take notice. Even though Joffrey and Ramsay were dead every time he heard one of their names he tensed.

"It's alright, Sweetling." He comforted. "He's dead and you're safe."

She snuggled into his naked chest, her hands wrapped around his tattoo sleeve so she could trace the wolf on his forearm.

"Can we please go to lunch now? I just want to forget."

Husband kissed wife then stood up with her in his arms. One more kiss and then he carefully set Sansa down on her feet, his hands ran through her soft, red locks.

"Go change. I'll set some fresh water and a snack down for Lady then we'll go."

He watched Sansa rush off upstairs and breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes it amazed Petyr at how many bullets he'd dodged; lucky man.


	17. Cops Just Show Up

That night after everyone had gone to bed, the heavens opened. Thunder, lightning, that strange hot air scent. Petyr always slept well through storms – the perfect pluviophile – so he was rather surprised when he found himself awake, staring at the ceiling. Maybe it was the new bed? Getting a new one delivered had actually been no easy task but he'd done it. Frankly he'd not wanted to sleep in that bed again either.

Petyr glanced over to Sansa to see she wasn't there, the covers were a mess but other than that he couldn't see any sign of his wife in the lightning flashes. When another rumble of thunder sounded Petyr heard a small squeak and knew exactly what had woken him. Slowly he sat up and raked a hand over his sleepy face then grabbed a pillow and – quite literally – fell off the bed only to roll underneath it in a well practised move. Easily Sansa let him pull her against his naked chest while the pillow was shoved underneath his head. She snuggled into his warmth seeing his comfort and love.

Truthfully, Petyr was still half asleep if not three quarters and would undoubtedly be off again after a few moments.

"It's okay, Sweetling. Master is here." Petyr mumbled then kissed her head. "I love you."

"I love you too." She said quietly, her breath hot against his pectorals.

Suddenly thunder rumbled again, loud and violent, and she screamed. Her hands clung to him tightly as Sansa pressed herself against him. Most of the time Petyr managed to convince himself that Sansa had overcome her fears but at times like these he realized that she'd never be free of the abuse she'd suffered though. Yes, his redhead could move past it but she'd never really be free of it; Joffrey and Ramsay would always have that hold over her no matter how much Sansa fought it.

"Sorry." She whispered.

"No, it's okay. Nothing wrong with being scared of storms."

This was the second time she'd done this in a week and it didn't take a genius to figure out Petyr didn't like it. She'd never caused a problem by crawling under the bed but he hated that he couldn't free her of that fear.

Sansa sighed. "You're not."

That made Petyr chuckle sleepily, his eyes closed. "Well, my wife is a badass with a dog that thinks she's a wolf, so what do I have to fear?"

He felt Sansa smile against his shirtless chest. Her fingers trailed the scar her Uncle had long ago given Petyr.

"It's not just the storm," another rumble of heavy thunder and a flash of light "I had a nightmare about … about Joffrey and what he did. What Ramsay did. I think Brune and Pellegrino fighting sparked it."

"That's all they are, Sweetling." He comforted in hushed, gentle words. "Nothing but memories and nightmares now. Those things can't hurt you." Another kiss. "Try and sleep, Sweetling. Sooner you sleep the sooner the storm will pass."

Frankly Petyr was thankful that Tris and Poppy hadn't woken up.

He managed to stay awake – or at least semi-conscious – until his darling redhead nodded off again. She might have left her thought of Lannisters, Baratheons and Boltons behind for the night but Petyr had only just started thinking of the sick assholes. Sometimes Baelish wished he could resurrect the dead just to kill them again.

He lay there a long time in that purgatory between awake and asleep until the storm started to die down. The sound of trees blustering back and forth calmed and lightning flashes got fewer and farther between until they were almost non-existent. Heyerdahl was the new threat to Sansa and his family; Petyr would kill him too, just like all the others. Suddenly he found himself of some of his last words to Cersei, _Lannisters make plans in search of revenge for fallen family, I however, will kill you before you even get close to hurting mine_ ; it seemed so long ago now.

Finally he let sleep take him, an easy task, and Sansa slept soundly for the rest of the night.

~X~

The silver doors rolled open to the top floor of Lion and Stag Enterprises and Sebastian Larroquette stepped off to a busy but surprisingly calm floor. He got a few stares as he walked through through to Petyr Baelish's assistant, Gwendolyn, who sat at her glass desk outside Petyr's office door.

"Hello Sir, may I help you?" The blonde asked him politely when she glanced up.

"Yes, thank you." He flashed her a smile. "I need to see Petyr Baelish, please."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but Mister Baelish is out of the office at the moment. As you can imagine, as CEO he's rather busy."

Sebastian showed her his badge in an attempt to push things along but this blonde was clearly used to that sort of effort; useless.

"I know he's here. We arranged a meeting."

Gwendolyn didn't show a single shred of apology. "I'm sorry, Detective, but, as I said, Mister Baelish isn't here. Also, I don't have you in the appointments." She told him without glancing to a screen, a book or anything else. "I can take a message though."

"That won't be necessary, Gwendolyn."

Two sets of eyes snapped up to see Petyr as he approached them. Where he'd been neither assistant nor Detective knew and frankly didn't care. He looked impeccable as always in his fine tailored suit of all black save for his tie which was reminiscent of Hemimorphite.

Baelish made his way straight past Larroquette and the desk Gwendolyn sat at and opened his office's double doors before spinning around to face the taller man.

"Would you like tea or coffee, Detective Sergeant?"

Larroquette shook his head. "No, thank you."

"In that case would you please make sure that we aren't disturbed, Gwendolyn?"

"Of course, Mister Baelish."

Larroquette stepped past Petyr and sat himself in an arm chair opposite Petyr's desk. The man with ash at his temples had a stunning office fit for any CEO but, despite, the decoration, it didn't really seem all that personalized at all; like it was just for show and didn't reveal anything of Petyr Baelish the man.

"Didn't bring any _friends_?"

With that sarcasm Petyr closed the double doors and left Gwendolyn sat at her desk looking curious and a bit cautious. She must have sat there staring at Baelish's door for a good thirty seconds until a well known voice snapped her out of it.

"I see the police are here." Said Varys in that breathy, unsurprised tone of his. "Shall I start burning files and transferring funds to off-shore accounts?"

Gwendolyn didn't seem overly impressed with the CHRO, but, of course, didn't voice it. She'd worked at Lion and Stag long enough to be aware that if there was something Petyr Baelish didn't know Varys would be aware of it and vice versa. When working together they were just about unstoppable but when on opposite sides worlds burned. Fairly obviously – to Gwendolyn at least – Varys was fishing for answers and details that the blonde was partly too loyal to divulge but mainly too afraid of Baelish to give out to the likes of Varys.

Gwendolyn wanted to know what else Detective Larroquette could have possible wanted from her boss but the blonde had enough control to stay clear.

"It didn't seem to important, Mister Varys." Was what she eventually settled on saying. "Best not to burn all our files just yet."

It was all she'd give him and the bald CHRO knew it.

"... yes, you'll see Daddy in a minute, Poppy."

For the second time in almost as many minutes two sets of eyes snapped up to find someone approaching Gwendolyn's desk. However, this time the blonde assistant grinned when she saw Missus Baelish, her young daughter and Alayne's ever present pet.

Alayne had always been a quiet girl as far as Gwendolyn could gather and then there was the whole underage thing that Mister Baelish hadn't hidden as well as he'd thought he had. Normally Gwendolyn would have been concerned and the first to inform the police but it only took one look to reveal just how much her boss loved his wife and Alayne him. She'd been at their wedding, she'd seen how happy Alayne had looked stood at the altar with him.

"Morning, Missus Baelish." Gwendolyn beamed, mostly happy to see the little girl. "Hello, Poppy."

"Hi, Gwendolyn." Blue eyes flashed slightly cautiously up at the balled man. "Varys."

Quietly the redhead made to enter Petyr's office only for the blonde to verbally bring her to a halt.

"Em, Missus Baelish, your husband is speaking with the police."

The younger woman tensed and pulled Poppy closer to her chest. She hated Tristan and Poppy now going to pre-school – it would get even worse when Tristan started Kindergarten – so having Poppy to herself for the day had delighted her. Lady's fur shot up at her mistress' change in mood, ever the perfect guard dog.

"Oh?" She asked with a puzzled expression. "I wish Detective Heyerdahl would leave us alone." the Vice President said more to herself than Gwendolyn or Varys.

The blonde's heart went out to her boss' wife. "It's just the younger one. Detective Larroquette."

They both watched as Missus Baelish relaxed and brightened up. "Oh good."

"Daddy!" Poppy suddenly demanded sparking the adults out of their thoughts; when Poppy wanted her father there wouldn't be any shutting her up until she was in his arms.

"You really need to stop demanding, Poppy."

With that the redhead let herself into Petyr's office and once more Varys and the assistant found themselves alone staring at the door silently wanting answers.


	18. Lion On The Line

The hour was late but Heyerdahl neither noticed nor cared, time couldn't be found at the bottom of a glass. Baelish had to be behind all the bodies at that dumpsite, behind Cersei Lannister's death, Heyerdahl was sure of it; could feel it in his bones, his very marrow. The Detective Inspector's only problem was that he couldn't fucking prove any of it.

The man sat next to him at the bar seemed just as pissed off as Oren himself. Over the hubbub of all the other customers that littered the bar he'd been able to hear the man grumbling to the bartender about his girlfriend, but after a few were in him he'd turned to the dark-skinned man to regale him with the full tale. Apparently this guy's girlfriend was a real psycho, constantly yelling and screaming because of completely unimportant shit. Bloody women! Should have just shut the fuck up and learnt their goddamn place.

"Always yapping like a ducking Chihuahua. Am I right?" The newcomer grumbled.

Heyerdahl sighed while staring into his half-drunk beer. "Preaching to the choir, my friend."

"I work all day and she fucking moans I'm not there, I've been gone too long. Shit, I'm not the woman's fucking comfort dog."

The DI chuckled. "Tell me about it. My case, I know Baelish is in-fucking-volved somehow. That slut wife of his _has_ to know something but he's found the only whore that knows how to shut her fucking mouth."

The dark-haired man on the bar stool beside him looked the cop up and down a second with a raised eyebrow.

"Shit, you mean Petyr Baelish? The CEO of Lion and Stag? You think he _killed_ someone? How? He looks like a gentle breeze would knock him over. Can you prove any of it?"

Oren grumbled and shook his head before he downed the last of his beer.

"No. I'd like to but my DS is a pussy and Baelish covers his tracks well."

Suddenly the high-pitched ding of a bell sounded and almost everyone's eyes snapped up to see one of the barmen.

"Last call!" He announced in a deep, over tired voice and half the customers grumbled in annoyance that he didn't seem to notice or care about.

"I should get home. Gotta nail that fucker to the wall in the morning."

Oren slipped from his bar stool and straightened his tie, not that he did a very good job of it.

"Good luck." The other man offered.

Heyerdahl fixed the tall man with a stern expression. "Fucker'll slip up. He thinks he's a bloody genius but he ain't."

With that Heyerdahl shuffled off out of the bar and presumably towards home, wherever the hell that happened to be. His unexpected drinking companion watched the door a moment to make absolutely sure he was gone then pulled out his cellphone from it's resting place in his back pocket and dialled. The phone rang only twice before a familiar voice answered with a stern 'yes'.

"He's drunk, stupid and angry, Boss."

" _Why am I not surprised._ " Sighed Petyr through the telephone line. " _What did you get out of him, Mads?"_

"He's on to you but he can't prove it and is basically clutching at straws. He is getting dumb."

Mads could practically feel Baelish raise an eyebrow. "I suspected dumb quite frankly. Thank you for your work, Mads, you'll find your payment added to your next pay cheque."

"Thanks, Boss." The tall, dark-haired man smiled to himself as his boss hung up.

He'd been working for Petyr Baelish for going on eight years now, he'd started off at The Mockingbird all the way at the bottom of the pecking order, he'd been little more than a dancer but soon Mads had worked his way up along with William and Olyvar, and was now one of Littlefinger's go to men; something he'd become rather proud of.

~X~

Sansa sat in her devoted husband's lap while he chatted via phone to Tyrion Lannister. They'd not seen Tyrion since he'd left for Dorne after murdering his father several years earlier and frankly he and Petyr hadn't felt the need to keep in touch with one another.

While he spoke Sansa watched Lady as she napped by Petyr's home office door beside the children, who played on their little blanket with a load of stuffed toys. She enjoyed the moments like this; the peaceful ones.

Tyrion had been splitting his time between Dorne and Essos for his work with Daenerys Targaryen. While Daenerys' cause was undoubtedly worthy Petyr couldn't help but think she'd gotten herself distracted; an all too common occurrence.

Apparently Tyrion and Jaime had recently started talking again and were actually getting along. Then again, Jaime had always been better better than his twin. Unsurprisingly Jaime was devastated at the discovery of Cersei's body; finding her had truly confirmed what they'd all suspected for years. Jaime had lost his son, his father and now Cersei had officially died. Jaime felt as though his sister had been taken from him all over again. Had Tyrion not been the only Lannister that wasn't an asshole Petyr would have felt bad.

"... and if he knew I killed her?"

Tyrion chuckled on the other end of the phone line, a sound that echoed around the room since he was on speaker.

" _Jaime would kill you without hesitation._ "

That got a smirk from Petyr as he kissed Sansa's temple. "Undoubtedly."

" _Good job he's not going to find out about that then, isn't it._ " Replied Tyrion smoothly. " _What, four people other than you know about it? One is your wife, two are unquestioningly loyal to you and I hated my sister … well, I'd long ago given up on her. It'll be this Oren Heyerdahl's problem soon enough_."

"Why does he hate you so much?" Asked Sansa during the lull in the conversation. "It's like he knows something that no one else does."

Tyrion let out a displeased hum. " _I don't like the idea of someone being ahead of us, but not to worry, Sansa dear, the hubby and I are dealing with it."_

That made the redhead laugh softly but her and Petyr's attention was quickly pulled to Poppy when she rolled onto her side and grabbed Lady's paw over herself so it looked like the dog had decided to cuddle her. Tristan seemed to like the idea because a second later he'd done the same; it brought a smile to their father's face. He calmly shifted Sansa so he could stand up and Sansa sat herself in his chair. He crossed the room to his son and daughter where he lifted Poppy into his arms and spun her around like a little helicopter which got a fit of giggles from the little girl. Sansa watched the display with a grin, she loved seeing Petyr and the children together.

" _One of the kids did something cute and now he's distracted, isn't he?_ " The little lion didn't sounded even remotely surprised.

Sansa nodded though she knew he'd not be able to see her. "Yes, Tyrion, quite distracted."

Petyr cleared his throat realizing he'd stumbled into 'father mode' without meaning to.

"I am never distracted, just taking a moment to play with my daughter."

Poppy reached out for Lady again so her father set her down and returned to lean on his desk. Sansa looked so fuckable in his leather chair; she always looked fuckable.

" _Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Baelish."_ Tyrion commented sarcastically. " _I'll run damage control from here, best someone keeps an eye on Jaime._ _However, I suspect I won't be able to stop him from returning to King's Landing much longer."_

Petyr nodded to himself. "Well, this is Cersei of course Jaime will come running. Besides, your brother is the least of our concerns, we shall deal with him later."

" _I'll do some research on this Oren Heyerdahl and see if there's anything we've missed, cover all our angles._ "

"I already have contacts looking into it but the assistance will be appreciated. Also, a heads up when Jaime does plan on returning to the city would be helpful. I'm surprised you've managed to keep him away this long."

" _Well, people shouldn't underestimated me, Littlefinger. I rail-roaded him into a deal at Vaith so he can't leave until that's dealt with. I'll call you when I know something. Bye, Sansa."_

With that the Tyrion hung up and the line went dead leaving the home office in utter silence. It took very little prompting to get Sansa back in his lap but one she was Poppy stumbled over wanting attention, so her mother cuddled her close and they all ended up sat in a little stack; father, mother, daughter.

Petyr placed a loving kiss to the redhead's temple and brought her closer still. Sansa didn't say a word, just rested in Petyr's arms happily.

"I know you're worried, my Sweetling." He began in that ever so slightly accented voice of his. "Everything is fine and that's how it is going to stay, I promise. Tristan and Poppy are safe." Sansa rested her chin atop their daughter's head, an act Petyr thought adorable. "We should all go down to the beech or walk Lady, something we can do as a family. It seems lately you always have the children and I'm at Lion and Stag or The Mockingbird," He flashed her a smile. "What do you say, Sweetling? Just the four of us and Lady?"

Sansa beamed up at her husband. Time that was just them? Where she could forget the past had ever happened and just focus on her husband, son and daughter? Sounded heavenly.

"I'd like that. It's a really nice day, we could go to the beach."

Petyr smirked. "How did I know you'd choose the beach." He said more to himself than Sansa.

She knew it wasn't a question but she found herself answering anyway.

"Because you know everything." She teased.

That he did.


	19. An Unwanted Lunch

It had taken some convincing on his part but Heyerdahl had eventually managed to convince his higher ups to place Petyr Baelish and his family under observation; or at least that was what he'd told his underlings. In truth he'd forged a couple of signatures and set folk to work.

Sebastian walked into the homicide department early that Monday morning with stinging eyes, he'd gotten caught up in a book and read until almost dawn. However, those stinging eyes quickly came into focus on two plain clothes officers wandering out muttering about having to follow the Baelishs about all day. That got a raised eyebrow from Larroquette.

He made his way to Heyerdahl's office where he found the poorly aged black man hunched over his desk writing something in his illegible chicken scratch.

"Em, Inspector?" Oren's head snapped up. "When did you get clearance for observation on Petyr and Alayne Baelish?"

Heyerdahl glared at the younger man. "I'm the DI here you fairy fuck, I don't have to explain myself to you. Now off you go. Do whatever it is you do when you're not cock sucking the ME and don't worry your pretty head about it."

Sebastian's eye twitched as he stood there in the doorway. Gods how he wanted to kill that homophobic asshole! Wanted to rip his cock off and feed it to him. Also, not to sound un-reciprocating, but it was Jefferson doing the sucking.

A man in uniform brushed past the Detective Sergeant then and snapped him out of his murderous thoughts. Sebastian took a calming breath.

"Inspector, Sergeant," Started the uniformed blonde. "Tyrion Lannister is on the phone. He wants to talk to the Detective in charge of his sister's case."

Heyerdahl sighed. "Bloody Lannisters, never happy." He glared up at the DS. "Larroquette, get out. You too, Tudyk."

The uniformed officer and Sebastian vacated the office and Tudyk closed the door behind them before he raked a hand through his blonde locks.

"Damn, that man is a prick."

Sebastian chuckled. "You can say that again, mate."

"You heard anything more about that promotion? Jefferson said we were getting somewhere with that."

Larroquette let his head fall back a moment to stare up at the ugly drop ceiling a moment before back down to the uniformed officer, his expression expectant and hopeful.

"So far no, Heyerdahl found out and tried to shut it down. Hopefully I'll hear something though." Seb didn't want to hear about this so he changed the subject. "You and Jefferson still going fishing next week?"

The blonde nodded. "Yeah."

"Seriously, how you got him to agree to that I'll never know."

Tudyk chuckled as he raked a hand over his face. "We've been friends for years, besides he got me in a gay bar last month so he owes me."

The shorter man laughed again but Sebastian didn't seem so convinced and so stuck him with a look that said just that.

"Vanderveer, you love gay bars, don't try to lie to me." He teased, pleased to forget about Heyerdahl's shit.

"Yeah, you got me, it's the brightly colored drinks and little umbrellas." Van couldn't help teasing back.

"Fuck, it's not 'Queer as Folk'."

"Okay, this weird ass conversation has gone on long enough. I'm out."

With that Van Tudyk strode across the room back to his desk without another word. Van had always been good to Jefferson; was his best friend. They'd met on a case several years ago when the pair had just been starting out in their careers and had been firm friends ever since.

With a sigh that didn't usually show up until at least Wednesday, Sebastian shuffled off and slumped down into his chair at his cubical as he wished he'd bought himself a decent coffee before eyes clocked a chocolate cupcake sat on his desk. Though he raised an eyebrow Sebastian smiled at the little gesture that clearly came from his lover. He dunked his index finger into the swirl of icing and after tasting the sweet chocolate goodness he nudged the cupcake away slightly so he could take the little note out from underneath.

There in neat handwriting was a short but sweet message from his darling boyfriend. 'Sugar makes you less homicidal'. The Detective Sergeant breathed out a laugh softly, Jefferson knew him so well, then again they'd been together since university. If Jefferson didn't know him by now he never would.

Eating his cupcake, Larroquette knew he'd just have to grin and bear Oren's verbal abuse a while longer. Heyerdahl couldn't keep himself out of trouble for much longer, got worse and more offensive with every passing day. Detective Sparrow had been the only one who'd ever liked the DI but even that seemed to have faded into non-existence.

Still, Larroquette had a cupcake from the man he loved so he was happy for the time being.

~X~

Petyr had – once again – been roped into lunch with Lysa 'I wear too much perfume' Arryn at her favourite restaurant, Flavoroso. Frankly, in Petyr's opinion, ever since their head chef had left the place had gone down hill. Then again Sansa much preferred the Prawn Linguine at Qitchen so Petyr usually went there instead.

The man with ash at his temples had just taken a swig of his top shelf bourbon when he noticed Lysa grinning. _Here she goes_ , thought Petyr with an internal sigh.

"I've been thinking." Began the aged redhead with a gleam in her eyes that he didn't like the look of. "You might be right about Royce and the board taking over my company until Robin is old enough." _Took you long e-fucking-nough,_ he internally sighed. "I don't like it, Petyr darling, Royce is already making comments. He doesn't want me in charge and is just waiting until he can steal Vale Limited. The thieving asshole! Taking everything from those who have earned it." Petyr raised an eyebrow behind his boubon glass. _You didn't earn Vale, your husband died and didn't plan his Will very well._ "Royce won't protect it until Robin is old enough, he'll just take it for himself and that board will let him because they're just as greedy and don't want my boy to have anything."

 _Oh where is my violin?_ Comfortingly Petyr rested a hand atop Lysa's between them on the table and flashed a smile after he'd set his glass down.

"It's okay, Lysa, we'll figure something out. Vale will be fine, I promise."

Lysa continued to grin at him, so blind to how much he hated her.

"See, that's why I love you so much. You're so good to me." She squeezed his hand. "You'll make such a wonderful father when it's just you, me and Robin."

Petyr couldn't help but notice she – once again – made no reference what so ever to Tristan and Poppy. Lysa probably wouldn't want his children around taking Petyr's valuable attention away from her boy. Good job none of that would ever happen then.

"I want you to hold Vale in trust for Robin until he's old enough if something happens to me. Which it won't." _Want a bet?_ "I trust you to keep his best interest at heart. Who better to protect him than his future father and already Godfather?"

She continued to grin incessantly at him, all toothy and repulsive. How had she ever managed to get it into her head that he'd even _think_ about leaving his sweet Sansa for Lysa? _Oh yes, years of conning and lies._

"You'll be his father-" she just couldn't stop saying that, could she "and you're already been looking out for him. I want you to take care of Vale Limited … for Robin."

Finally! Petyr had been pushing for this so subtly, for so long but his hard work – losing his wedding ring – had all finally paid off. This was it, this was how he'd take Vale Limited out from underneath Lysa Arryn. She wanted them to play happy families, had the rest of their lives planned out but so did Petyr; Sansa was going to be so happy when he told her they were finally taking Vale.

The man with ash colored temples played dumb and let a confused expression settle n his features.

"Is this really what you want?" He asked while leaning forwards a little/. "Are you sure? Technically I'm a rival company, Lysa."

Precisely how he'd gotten so good at sounding caring and considerate Petyr didn't exactly know but it had always worked on Lysa.

"You have so much more experience with this, Petyr. We'll be a family son, have both Vale and Lion and Stag and I trust you." _Well, that's a mistake if ever I've heard one._ "I know you wouldn't ever betray me or Robin. You said I should choose someone and I chose you."

Petyr nodded as he finished his drink. "Well, If you're sure, I'd be honored. I'll have paperwork drawn up and get things moving."

Lysa breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, darling. I know I can always count on you. This is why I love you, you're so good to me."

"You don't love me you want to possess me." He muttered as he turned his attention back to his lunch.

"Hmm?" Her brow furrowed.

Petyr's head snapped up; he shouldn't have said that especially aloud.

"I said it's why I love you too." Lysa beamed across the table at him and he knew he's clearly placated. _Nice save._ "If you really want me to hold the company in trust-"

She cut him off. "I do!"

"-then you can't tell Royce or the rest of the board until everything has been signed and filed. If they get wind of it then they'll try to shut it down, out you as incompetent or something similar."

Lysa growled as she chomped on her salad then promptly spoke with her mouth half-full.

"Those bastards!"

That little outburst certainly drew attention from some of the other lunch goers but Baelish reined her back in easily enough. He flashed her one of those bold and reassuring smiles that always disarmed people.

"Worry not, Lysa, all will be well. I'll deal with everything so you don't have a care in the world."

Lysa honestly believed him, thought Petyr was hers and all was right with the world. Oh, how fun it would be to see her face when she realized the truth.

"I'm not going to say a word to the board, they won't know what hit them."

 _And neither will you._ Petyr had hardly gotten three mouthfuls further into his lunch before the aged redhead started to push Petyr to leave. Wanted to go have sex in his car but – of course – Petyr had no intention of budging from his seat, he'd no cheat on his adoring wife and there was no way in hell he'd disgrace his Aston Martin with an orgasming Lysa Arryn. The very idea repulsed him; truthfully it put him off his lunch.

Reluctantly accepting he'd not fuck her Lysa moved on to pressuring him to leave Sasna, well, Alayne. Lysa sited the usual reasons; Alayne was a whore, vile, hadn't ever loved Petyr and had only had their children to trap him into a miserable marriage. Alayne only wanted his money and to keep Petyr away from the woman he truly loved. It amazed Littlefinger that someone could have been so deluded and not in a mental institution. Petyr hadn't ever even had to try that hard to get Lysa to go along with whatever he wanted.

"We can't do all of this at once, Lysa. If I hold Vale Limited in trust and leave Alayne then it's going to look seriously suspicious. We can't have those questions asked, not if you want to keep Royce away from the company."

Lysa sighed and skewered a piece of chicken with her fork. "Fine. I don't like it but I suppose the companies come first."

Baelish breathed a silent breath of relief at that. "Thank you for being so patient, Lysa, I know it is unfair but we have to od this all right. One mistake and it'll all blow up in our faces."

"You and your plans." She grinned. "You're always ten steps ahead of everyone else, aren't you?"

Petyr smirked. "Oh, you have no idea, Lysa."

A few more bites passed in virtual peace until the redhead snapped up from her almost empty plate as though she'd just discovered maple bacon.

"You are coming to the party next month, right?"

Petyr's brow furrowed, he truly didn't want to spend any longer with Lysa than he absolutely had to.

"What party?"

"There's a party to commemorate Vale's founding twenty-five years ago. We'll be almost as old as you." She announced proudly.

Of course Baelish knew to what she refereed to, Lion and Stag was nearly thirty-two, but still his mind grumbled, _we're the same age._ The brothel owner plastered a grateful smile on his face though and played along, this celebration might have actually proven useful to himself and Sansa.

"I'd be delighted to attend, Lysa. However, wouldn't this just be a private event for Vale personnel?"

"I can invite whoever I want." She said as if she were God; ever the entitled idiot. "It's my company."

Petyr smirked. "Well, mine technically once you sign the papers." He chuckled only for Lysa to join in a moment later completely unaware she laughed about her own doom.

"You with both companies, imagine that." She giggled which frankly became annoying and rather ugly to witness rather quickly. "Oh, it's laughable, isn't it. Good job we're in this together, darling."

Sometimes Petyr was in on things with people so much he often had to stop and take a moment to remind himself who knew what and why.

"Still, I'd be happy to attend your party, Lysa."

She bounced in her seat like a happy two year old out at her first restaurant. He half expected her to start clapping.

"Perfect! Then, after the party, we'll tell Alayne you want a divorce. All the paperwork will have been dealt with."

"It will have gone through, yes." He could throw her this bone, wasn't what he'd intended in his plot but he could work with it; keep her happy for another month and then it was all over. Petyr could go back to his perfect red haired queen forever. "Sounds like a plan to me, Lysa."

The ill-aged woman swelled with pride as the pair carried on eating. So close to the end. Once Lysa was dealt with and he had Vale Limited he could finished off Heyerdahl and the sit back and admire his success.


	20. Lions Are Back

Sansa had decided to take a few moments of calm peace all to herself while the kids were at pre-school. Her sketch pad out with all her pencils, charcoal and bold colors she owned set out neatly beside the pad on the glass coffee table. That was always where Sansa drew unless she'd decided to sit outside. Her Cardinal bird was almost finished when the front door slammed shut startling her out of the peace she'd carved out for herself. The redhead spun around just in time to spot Petyr as he stormed over to the kitchen with a deep growl on his face and – much to her surprise – opted for the vodka in the freezer to rinse his mouth out with, then again, he'd been going through a lot of bourbon that way. Maybe Sansa should have moved his toothbrush to the kitchen; it was an idea.

"Petyr, are you alright?" She asked softly as she pushed herself from the floor to the settee.

He spun around to face her and instantly Petyr's face softened. "Yeah." He called back from the kitchen. "You're Aunt Lysa decided to slobber all over me like a horny St. Bernard after lunch."

That mental image actually made Sansa pull a face of disgust that Petyr didn't blame her for one bit.

When he returned to the living room he sat down on the settee beside his wife and snaked an arm around her and pressed a loving kiss to Sansa's lips; he tasted of vodka, cigarettes and mint. The vodka was different for him but still Sansa found herself crawling into his lap for more loving touches. Petyr wasn't supposed to be home until at least eight but there he was just after two with a lap full of wife; what more could he have asked for.

"Damn, you're perfect." He breathed when they broke apart.

"Only to you." Sansa blushed.

Suddenly Baelish had the redhead tightly pressed against him, her chest flush against his own. Petyr's grip harsh and possessive on the globes of her ass but not angry or vile like Joffrey's touches had been.

"That's damn right." He told her assuredly. "You're mine, Sansa Stark. I laid claim to you and you love it."

The elder man kissed her hard and deep as Sansa's arms snaked around his neck; she smiled into their kisses.

"Baelish." The redhead told him when they broke apart for air.

Petyr's brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle her out. Confusion wasn't a usual for Petyr so Sansa slightly treasured it while she could.

"Hmm?"

Cerulean orbs glanced off at the couch cushions suddenly cautious before she responded.

"I know that Sansa Stark had to stay dead to the world but I'm not Sansa Stark any longer. I'm not Alayne Baelish either, she's fake and I sure as shit am _not_ Pet."

Petyr growled. "Gods, I want to fuck you when you swear."

Sansa ignored her husband's comment and instead carried on with what she'd been saying.

"I'm not any of them, but I am your wife, so it's Baelish not Stark. Sansa Baelish, that's who I want to be, who I _choose_ to be." The redhead clung to him needing a hug. "Sometimes I forget I'm allowed to choose."

He grinned against her skin. "Sansa Baelish does have a better ring to it and you can _always_ choose, Sweetling." He placed a soft kiss right where her neck met her shoulder. "I know it would be nice to be Sansa in public rather than Alayne but no one can know, it would raise too many questions and they'd figure us out."

The young redhead settled against his suit clad chest. "I know but that doesn't mean I'm not."

Petyr flashed a smile he knew she'd not see and kissed her temple. "No, it certainly doesn't. While I remember, I've gotten things in place for Lysa." Sansa raised an eyebrow. "She's doing exactly what I wanted and she thinks it was all her idea. She'll sign the paperwork – frankly she'll sign anything I put in front of her – once I've drawn it up. Also, because she's so obsessed with me she'll not notice the clauses I put in."

"Small print." She commented absent-mindedly which had Petyr breath out a laugh.

"Oh, I won't even have to hide it in the fine print, Sweetling. Lysa does want us to go to the twenty-five year anniversary party for Vale though. Well, she wants _me_ to tell you I want a divorce in front of her." Sansa paled at the mental image. "Not happening, baby girl. I can't wait to see her face when we just stare at her. I'd actually rarther like to fuck you on the CEO desk. Oh, to watch her world crumble, it's sadistic satisfaction and I'm looking forwards to it." Petyr gave her a little squeeze. "End of next month, my love, and I'll have taken the only two things your aunt cares about from her; Robin's future and me. Perfectly destroyed just for you … well, and a little bit me."

The man with ash at his temples smirked devilishly as he breathed his wife in, so perfect and his.

"Thank you, Master."

That devilish grin only grew. "Oh, you are most welcome, Sansa."

"What are you going to do once she knows you aren't leaving me?"

A valid and important question.

"I don't know." Littlefinger answered honestly. Sansa raised an eyebrow as she cuddled closer to his warmth and comfort, it hadn't been the answer she'd expected. "I've got a couple of different ideas but I'm favouring massive overdose. She's been known to … over indulge before and when I tell the police that I decided to stay with my utterly wonderful, young, sexy as fuck wife over her it'll look like she couldn't take it." He shrugged. "It's public knowledge she's obsessed with me and rather unstable."

"Sounds like you've wrapped it up in a bow."

Petyr chuckled. "Well, I have a three year old daughter so I'm good at bows." He teased.

Suddenly – in a rather impressive display of strength he didn't quite appear capable of – Petyr lifted the redhead up and turned her to sit in his lap similar to a child and father would. His arms hung loosely around her waist while his chin rested on her right shoulder.

"What have you been drawing, Sweetling?" He asked clearly changing the subject and Sansa let him.

Pleasantly the cerulean orbed angel showed him her Cardinal bird with a bold smile. It wasn't quite done but Petyr still saw the beauty of delicate wings and red feathers. His young wife really did have a talent. Husband listened intently to his wife while Sansa regaled him with how she'd created the small bird, or at least he did until his cellphone buzzed loudly. With a sigh he slipped it out of his inner breast pocket to find the text to be from Tyrion Lannister. One problem might have been dealt with but Tyrion has thrust a new one right in front of him.

~X~

The hour bordered on unreasonably early when Tyrion's and Jaime's plane touched down at KLA. The brothers had disembarked, gone through airport security and directly to their hotel where they'd tossed their bags down in their rooms then marched straight to the police station with hardly a word said between them. In fact, Jaime had hardly said two words to anyone since before they'd boarded the plane in Dorne, the blonde had been far too preoccupied with Cersei; even dead she had all his attention.

As soon as the Lannisters entered the homicide division they were ushered through to DI Heyerdahl's office by Van Tudyk where they found Oren at his desk and Larroquette leant back against a filing cabinet rather passive aggressively.

"I want to see my sister's body." Jaime announced the second he stepped foot through the door.

Heyerdahl gestured to the two chairs opposite him and, thankfully, Jaime and Tyrion sat though the former didn't look happy about it.

"Larroquette will have Doctor Von Voltaire prepare her for viewing once we're done here." The DI told them in an unusually calm voice.

Tyrion cleared his throat. "What exactly is it you want to know about our sister, Detective Inspector? Sergeant Larroquette and I have been comunicating via email and he's been informed of everything pertinent."

The little lion didn't like the way Heyerdahl looked down the end of his nose at him, the thoughts going through the elder man's head were evident but Tyrion said nothing about it.

"I want to make sure Larroquette didn't miss anything."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. _Passive aggressive much? Nah, you're usually aggressive aggressive._ This was how it always had been around Oren 'I'm better than everyone else' Heyerdahl, he took any opertunity to make it look like Sebastian didn't know what he was doing. It had been Heyerdahl's main weapon in keeping Larroquette a Detective Sergeant rather than letting him be promoted to DI. The dark-haired man's mental grumblings died when Heyerdahl got back to the task at hand.

"Explain Cersei Lannister's mental health to me. She was locked up at Vale Peace in Suspear, yes?"

Jaime's brow furrowed. "Voluntary confinement not _locked up_. I managed to convince her to consent. Cersei wasn't pleased about it but she did it for me." He sighed and cast his eyes down to the ground between his feet. "Loosing Joffrey had destroyed her and then father. Cersei needed to recuperate. My sister wasn't deranged."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow at his brother's words, deranged was exactly what Cersei had been. Still, Tyrion stayed silent while Jaime continued.

"You have to understand, our sister was doing well. She'd even started to take an interest in Vaith Incorporated and coming to work with me. Cersei revelled in Dorne."

Clearly just talking of her was having quite the effect on Jaime, his words were carefully chosen and overly punctuated while Tyrion sat there with his emotions completely under control and hidden.

Heyerdahl nodded more to himself than anyone else. "And her escape?"

There it was, the _real_ reason the DI wanted all the answers straight from the horses mouth as it were; the fucker hadn't read Larroquette's goddamn reports.

Again it was Jaime to speak first though this time it came with the full, angry weight of a pissed off Lannister.

"Turns out the institution was incompetent!"

Tyrion piped up then. "It's true, Detective Inspector. It later appeared that our sister wasn't their first … walk about. They argued that because she'd volunteered to stay there she could leave whenever she pleased, which is understandable. However, no one actually knew she'd left until Jaime went to visit her, and all her relevant paperwork for release hadn't been signed. When we discovered that it had happened before with people who'd actually been forcibly committed as well and there wasn't any sign of our sister, Jaime and I sued. They were charged with her care and yet completely disregarded it and her well-being."

Jaime reached down to a small briefcase when his brother had finished speaking and took out a file.

"I have Cersei's paper medical records if you need a copy, though we did email them to your Detective Sergeant."

Sebastian pushed up from the filing cabinet and straightened himself to his full height.

"That is part of our evidence collection, thank you, Mister Lannister. Best if you keep the original documentation."

Jaime nodded and cleared the file back into the briefcase. Heyerdahl didn't seem overly impressed but that was a pre-requisite for being the homophobic Detective Inspector.

"How did Cersei react to Petyr Baelish taking the CEO position at Lion and Stag Enterprises?"

That got a sigh from Jaime. "Not well, I have to confess. Cersei didn't much like Baelish, never had. Frankly she didn't like most of Lion and Stag's chief executives. Hated Pycelle all her life. She complained for months after father promoted Baelish to CFO but he was the best man for the job."

"And when he became CEO? Baelish didn't pressurize you into that?"

Jaime snorted. "No. Not at all. I didn't want anything to do with that wretched company after my family died. My father was murdered by some crazed maniac who followed him home." Tyrion quickly turned his eyes to the ground. "My s...nephew was poisoned by his best friend and my sister had a breakdown. As far as I'm concerned that company is a curse to anyone who runs it. I never want to step foot in that building again."

Heyerdahl leant back in his chair. "And why did you select Baelish as your replacement?"

The blonde's eyes narrowed as he glanced at Tyrion then back to the Detective.

"Why are you so fixated on Petyr Baelish?" Jaime demanded.

"Mister Lannister, just answer the question. Why did you give your company to Baelish?"

The blonde sighed. "I gave it to him because he was the most qualified. He'd been Lion and Stags CFO for years, he knows how to handle money well and Baelish was left as acting CEO for a while. I wasn't pressurized or coerced into handing over to him, Detective, It was simply that Petyr Baelish knew how to run Lion and Stag and actually cared about the company. He was the best choice to replace me. Varys has never wanted to be in charge and frankly the rest of them were idiots my father kept around to do his bidding."

The little lion nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Baelish is a very intelligent man, always has been. Can figure just about anything out. He and I worked together on a few big projects rather closely back when I was still CMO, the man never disappointed."

The conversation continued from there for quiet some time about Baelish and his young wife with Tyrion pushing away from the topic of Sansa at every available opportunity. The less Heyerdahl knew about Sansa the better.

Jaime's face had steadily grown more and more irritated at the talk had gone on. When he started to drum his fingernails against his knee Tyrion knew it wouldn't be long before his brother had an outburst. Finally, when Heyerdahl was on his fifth question about 'Alayne' Jaime snapped.

"This is about my _sister_ not Petyr and Alayne fucking Baelish!" He exclaimed which had Larroquette raise an eyebrow. "If you think he killed Cersei then where is your evidence and why haven't you arrested him yet?"

"Calm down, Mister Lannister." The black man growled. "It is possible he was involved, yes. It's an avenue we're exploring."

"Really?" Questioned Tyrion with an unimpressed expression. "Because the last twenty minutes have sounded, to me, like it's your only theory. So, either you're the dumbest cop in KLPD history or you're a dog looking for a bone. Petyr had already taken over from Jaime _months_ earlier, why would he bring Cersei back just to kill her? It makes no sense."

DS Larroquette could see Tyrion was taunting the Detective Inspector and, though he found it amusing, knew it wasn't a good idea so je didn't let it continue unchecked.

"We currently don't have any evidence or motive for Mister Baelish. We are just exploring every possibility as to who could have killed your sister."

Thankfully Oren seemed to settle down from his quietly bubbling rage at Sebastian's words rather than his usual volatile outburst that probably would have ended in a hight comment just to upset the little lion.

Jaime nodded. "In that case, my brother and I will expect to be kept informed of your proceedings, Detectives."

With that Jaime shot up out of his seat and grabbed his briefcase only for it to immediately slip out of his hand forcing the blonde to grab it again. Jaime had suffered with problems in his right hand ever since he'd been bitten by a dog as a child. He'd been playing knights in the park when a rather over eager dog had spotted the stick Jaime had been using as a sword and pounced; unfortunately the animal had missed the stick and grabbed Jaime by the hand and wrist. Tyrion was fully aware that his grip had been getting worse in the last few years and hoped the worst wasn't to come.

"I hope you look into someone other than Petyr Baelish for murdering our sister."

Jaime stormed out of Oren Heyerdahl's office then and Tyrion stood. The little lion shook Sebastian's hand and thanked him for his hard work then followed his brother out of the office not bothering to close the door behind himself.

"The fuck he thank you for?" The elder man hissed and Larroquette shrugged.

"Well, I was the one emailing with him and I-"

Heyerdahl cut him off abruptly. "Nobody gives a fuck, Larro-queer. Go pansy around in the bullpen or something, see who you can sperm gargle."

Sebastian sighed as he left the office, one of these days he was going to kill that homophobic asshole.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N All the artwork for this story, including the murder wall, can be found on my DeviantArt account by searching Cordelialear and going to the 'Fanfiction Cover Art' folder in my gallery.**


	21. Sounds Like Mercy

Noise danced around The Mockingbird like it was going out of style; out of tune singing, deep moans and drunk idiots yelling out their drink orders to his bartenders. Eyes lingered on Petyr's scantily clad staff and harsh lights stunned his own. However, Petyr's mind and irritations fell silent when he spotted Tyrion Lannister saunter in without a care in the world. The last time the little lion had been in The Mockingbird Petyr had been forced to smuggle him in via the side door. Tyrion caught Petyr's eyes and gestured to the office marked owner; the CEO nodded.

As soon as the door closed behind the two men the noise was cut off and faded into nothingness. Peace and quiet, Petyr had been longing for that; oh the wonders of soundproofing.

"Wondered how long it would take you to show up." Said Petyr as he made his way across the room. "Did you hear Ros calling?"

Tyrion laughed. "I did miss those sultry thighs."

"Well, they're probably wrapped around someone's face at the moment. Drink?"

The blonde let out a blissful sigh. "Fuck yes."

Petyr made quick work of pouring two glasses of twenty year old whiskey, one of which Tyrion took with a polite 'thank you' before he crashed down on the leather couch. Petyr took a seat also and casually stowed rested his feet up on the corner of his desk.

"How's the family?" Baelish asked for the sake of small talk after he'd had a sip.

"Surprisingly good since Cersei left out lives." Replied Tyrion. "Thank you for that by the way. Mrycella is to marry a boy in Dorne, Trystan."

"Mmm, I've heard Oberyn mention him before."

"Mrycella is head over heels. You know how young love it."

Petyr nodded. "Usually reckless and ill thought out."

The blonde chuckled at that from behind his glass. "I can't even argue with that. Though I think we should probably deal with the issue at hand. After all, it is rather pressing."

Baelish rolled his eyes. "Oh please, as if you've felt any pressure. We've been here dealing with it while you have been playing happy families."

The blonde stared blankly at Littlefinger. "You have met my family, right?"

"Yes, but all the assholes of your kin are dead." The club owner deadpanned.

"Touché." Tyrion indulged in another sip of amber liquid. "Why is Heyerdahl so obsessed with you? From what I've learned of the investigation there isn't _any_ evidence on you."

Petyr shrugged with little concern. "He may be a hateful person but he's got a good gut. He knows I'm more involved than I claim to be."

Tyrion nodded in understanding. "And how has Sansa been? Holding up I hope."

That trademark smirk pulled its way onto Petyr's lips. "You underestimate my wife, Tyrion. She has her bad days, of course she does, but steadily they are becoming less and less frequent. Sansa will amaze you."

The blonde didn't miss a beat. "Oh I don't doubt that for a moment. She's Ned Stark's girl after all. She saw all that blood, watched her family murdered in front of her, then Cersei and Joffrey put her through hell and, to top things off, Ramsay got hold of her. It's almost unthinkable. The simple fact that she didn't end up in some sort of catatonic state amazes me."

Littlefinger sighed as memories flooded back to him, thoughts he didn't want to remember.

"She did for a while." He admitted. "Then she couldn't stop calling me 'Master' and referred to herself as 'Pet' again. I grew increasingly worried about Poppy, a woman going though all that _and_ pregnant."

Tyrion's brow furrowed. "How did you get out of it? Not like you could take her to therapy."

Petyr breathed out a hushed laugh; that was a memory he'd much rather remember.

"It was unintentional actually. One day I mentioned the baby and if Sansa had decided what she wanted to do and she just seemed to … snap out of it. A day or so later she told me we were keeping Poppy and she's been the same ever since. Joffrey and Ramsay took her childhood, she wasn't going to let them take Poppy's and Tristan's as well."

There was quiet for a moment as both men thought back about the agony Sansa had gone through, both Tyrion and Petyr knew she was stronger than them in the long run. After a few seconds they downed what was left of their drinks only for Petyr to get up and refill their glasses.

"You had to clean up the evidence Cersei had left, right? After the Stark massacre." Tyrion kept his voice calm but the caution was obvious. The man with ash at his temples paused a moment before he sat back down in his chair but eventually nodded. "I can't imagine what that was like, and Sansa saw it all go up in flames."

"Frankly, Tyrion, you don't want to know what your family burning smells like. I cared nothing for Ned, but to see Cat's charred body and those of her children and their cousin-" He trailed off, Petyr never showed his emotions. "Very few people deserve to be shot and set ablaze. Something I never told Sansa … Arya wasn't dead." Tyrion's eyes went wide. "She'd been shot but alive when the house caught fire, she'd managed to claw her way towards the door but one of the beams had collapsed on her. She'd lay there with a burning beam pinning her down but being on the floor meant the smoke hadn't gotten her."

"That's horrific." The blonde's voice actually shook.

"She wasn't going to survive, Arya was only clinging to life by a thread."

"What did you do?"

"What could I do?" Petyr chugged down his drink. "I shot her in the head, put her out of her misery. Whenever I've told Sansa about it I lie and leave that out. She can't ever know, the mental image will haunt her and I don't want her knowing I killed her sister."

"Sounds more like mercy to me." Tyrion finished his drink then set the empty glass down on the coffee table and rose to his feet. "Well, I'm now depressed so I'm going to go fuck Ros. Thanks for the drink. I'll come back afterwards so we can talk, I kind of need to digest right now."

Petyr understood that, agreed with it entirely since he felt much the same way. He'd never told anyone about Arya; even lied to himself when he remembered it.

"I'm sure she'll be happy to have her best customer back." He said simply to distract himself. "I'll have Oly check if she's free." Petyr pushed himself up from his chair.

"If she isn't?" Tyrion asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, if I tell her to Ros can finish a man faster than nickel night at the whorehouse can get them in."

That brought the smile and the twinkle back into Tyrion's eyes. Petyr watched the dwarf as he left his office then sat a moment in silence. Killing Arya Stark didn't haunt him, it had been a mercy killing as Tyrion had said, what he couldn't handle was the look he'd seen on his wife's face; Petyr couldn't ever teller her.

~X~

When Baelish finally made it home for the night, many hours after he'd intended and after another conversation with the little lion, Petyr found Sansa had made dinner. Now, to most husbands it wouldn't have been unusual to come home late to a spouse who'd made them a meal, however, it most certainly was for Petyr for two main reasons. Firstly, Sansa wasn't a very good cook – something no one could hold against her after how long she'd spent chained to a bed. Secondly, Petyr rather enjoyed cooking; though _very_ few people knew that little fact. Still, Sansa had tried and she wasn't awful.

He sat down at the large dining table, the room lit by intimate lamps dotted around the room, and Sansa set a bowl of soup before him with a hesitation expression. Her husband couldn't stop smiling, soup had been the first actual meal he'd taught her to make, it had also been the first thing he'd fed her after he'd rescued her from Joffrey.

Soup was a simple meal but to Petyr it held nostalgia, and Sansa had excelled preparing it. He ate while telling his beautiful wife of Tyrion's and Jaime's return to King's Landing which Sansa didn't seem too enthused about when it came to Jaime. He told her about Tyrion's little visit to The Mockingbird as well, though he omitted much of it in regards to Arya and the Starks. The entire time his redhead sat on a chair beside him listening eagerly.

Petyr finished his dinner and Sansa quickly went to clean away the black bowl but Petyr caught her by the hips and pulled his wife down onto his lap where she settled happily against his chest once she'd wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What's bothering you, Sweetling? I know you."

Sansa sighed, she'd though she had hidden it well but Petyr was right, he knew her too well; knew her better than she knew herself.

"Sorry." She began quietly, her breath hot on his neck where she buried her face. "It's just … is it bad I'm more scared about things going wrong with my Aunt Lysa than Heyerdahl and his vendetta?"

Petyr smiled. "No, my love. Heyerdahl is all wrapped up in a neat little bow so there's nothing to worry about with him. You Aunt Lysa though is a landmine and my foot is on it."

Cerulean orbs peered up at him, all bold and luminous. "You nearly killed her."

That got a smirk out of her husband. "Mmm, and I was going to enjoy that. Worry not though, Sweetling, we'll be fine. Have I ever lied to you?"

Sansa shook her head. "No, but you leave out a lot."

That gave Petyr a moment of pause. He should have expected her to notice, Sansa was beyond smart and after spending her childhood trying to gage Joffrey's moods she had become almost unparalleled in detecting lies and small behavioural traits. Petyr might have known Sansa better than anyone else and the same was true of Sansa and her husband.

The man with ash at his temples pulled Sansa closer still to breathe her in as his chin rested on the top of her soft head.

"Tyrion asked about the fire." He said wanting to give her enough information to satisfy her but not terrify his perfect redhead. Sansa nodded knowing he was still leaving something out but she didn't really care what it was. "How about I check on the children while you go upstairs and change into something a little more nakedy, hmm?"

Sansa laughed, ladylike and delightful. "I can do that."

"Oh, I don't doubt it, Sweetling."

Another kiss found its way to the top of her head before Sansa stood up and Petyr couldn't help but slap her ass teasingly. With a loving smile he watched her vanish into the vestibule and up the stairs.

Fuck, he'd be happy when this was all over and life could get back to normal.

~X~

Sansa found herself back at the fire that had taken her home from her. The scent of smoke and ash choked her, forced it's way into her lungs to kill her from inside. Too late though, she'd watched her parents, siblings and cousin murdered then set alight; Sansa had died along with them.

The redhead didn't want to be here, she'd replayed this so many times before in her head, Sansa couldn't watch it again. She dropped to her knees amongst the mortar and other broken debris as the fire licked at her legs and hips. It wasn't real! Petyr would save her, he always saved had.

A scuffle caught her attention then and bold cerulean eyes flashed up to spot Petyr as he desperately scrambled to rescue her from the flames, but Lysa held him back; she didn't even seem to struggle. Petyr clawed for her kicking up shards of burnt rubble with his feet as he tried to reach his wife, but Lysa never released her grasp on him, just smirked triumphantly at her niece.

Fire consumed Sansa as tears fell in a river down her cheeks and then, with a start, Sansa was sat bolt upright in bed, a scream of desperation already half from her lips. Petyr snapped to full conscious in a heartbeat and pushed himself up in the darkness of their bedroom.

Sansa didn't try to clamber under the bed, not this time, instead she threw herself into her husband's lap and clung to him for dear life; Petyr was still there. Softly Baelish petted his wife's hair as he rapidly blinked away sleep. Lady forced her way into the large bedroom hardly a second after Sansa's scream had ended, eyes dark and ready to attack if needed, however, when the animal hopped up onto the bed only for Sansa to snuggle her close as well, Lady settled down and started to comfort as well.

The brothel owner didn't ask what Sansa's nightmare had been about or offered words of comfort. Petyr said nothing, just sat with Sansa's wrapped up tight in a loving embrace while she cried into his naked chest and Lady nuzzled against Sansa's side.

Truthfully Petyr had expected for Poppy and Tristan to start crying, having been startled from their beds by their mother's scream but neither came; the Baelish children were good little sleepers.

Quietly Petyr pressed a kiss to the top of Sansa's head. She didn't want to take, she only wanted for him to hold her and remind her he'd always be there. Petyr would, he always would. Petyr had thought he'd loved Cat but that had been nothing compared to what he felt for Sansa, his perfect wife. Petyr had become king and Sansa his queen.

Carefully he settled back against the headboard with Sansa cradled against him and fought off going back to sleep. After a while Lady scooted up onto his left leg which soon sent it dead but he didn't make a single movement other than raking his fingers through Sansa's flowing locks of fire and a slight wiggle of his toes.

Petyr knew that he'd get no more sleep that night, good job someone had discovered coffee.


End file.
